Cursing The Unforgiven
by Quantumphysica
Summary: "Stop staring at him. I don't care what you do when you meet him in a dark corner, but don't do it in public!" In which there will be car theft, identity confusion, constant vigilance, nefarious plotting, eternal glory and other strange commodities, and revenge is a dish best served bloody hot... (Sequel to The Gifted Curse, can be read separately)
1. Death Eater Caught In The Act

**IMPORTANT: THIS IS A SEQUEL. **

**YOU DON'T HAVE TO READ THE PREVIOUS PARTS, ALL IMPORTANT INFO IS DOWN BELOW HERE! If you did read the previous stories ("A Gift And A Curse", "An Accursed Gift" and "The Gifted Curse") you can skip this bit.**

**_Main character:_**** Crucio Carina Lestrange, known as Crucie Black in Hogwarts. She is NOT a Mary Sue (or so I've been told multiple times), but she does have the talent to perform a wandless, nonverbal cruciatus curse. She loves to torture people, and her ethics/ideology is a little on the sociopathic side at times, but nevertheless she is fiercely loyal to both her family and friends. She lives with her uncle Rabastan on Knockturn Alley, and often helps out as a shop assistant at Borgin And Burke's. She's friends with Hermione Granger (but not accepted into the Trio, they keep their friendship a secret) and Theodore Nott. She also works on a Muggle Tech project with Hermione, trying to make muggle things function in a magical environment. Her best friend however is the old portrait of Salazar Slytherin.**

**_Events:_**** Mainly follow the canon, and Crucie usually doesn't interrupt or play a large role in them. All canon events up to now have taken place. Important is that the basilisk, however killed by Harry Potter, was later on resurrected as a ghost by Crucie, hence that Hogwarts now has a giant blind snake ghost roam the halls. Because Crucie has performed the spell she can understand the basilisk ghost, and she's been studying/struggling for two years now to learn Parseltongue through their connection. She's not really good at it though ;)**

**In the previous story, when the dementors attacked she kept them at a distance with the cruciatus curse until Harry could chase them completely with a patronus. This story uses the premise that emotion-based curses and spells affect all amortal creatures in some way.**

**This story will tell the tale of Crucie's fourth year at Hogwarts. Enjoy!**

"Dementors. Hundred dementors."

Rabastan Lestrange was clearly experiencing some trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that his goddaughter had braved a small army of Azkaban's guards without using her wand. Crucie just grinned at him.

"That's what I said, yes."

"Crucie…"

Rabastan pulled the girl in for a hug. He was proud of her, surely, but the mere idea of the girl he had come to love like a daughter being in such danger gave him the chills.

"For one, I am incredibly proud of you."

She smiled happily, a proud blush on her cheeks, and Rabastan sighed. He then took her face in his hands and made her look at him. "But promise me you will stay away from dementors. They are the worst this world has to offer. I would rather see you wrestle acromantulas than fight them, and you know how I think about spiders."

Crucie surely knew. The quest of Rabastan Lestrange to exterminate all the spiders in Great Britain was a lonely and often mocked crusade, and she couldn't help but giggle. Her uncle could torture a man into insanity and had no qualms with tearing apart human beings limb-by-limb if the situation asked for it, but he would Avada Kedavra a spider the size of a pinhead because he was too nervous to crush it under his foot.

"Arachnophobia is not funny!"

"I know; it's just a very unlikely thing to have for a person in your profession."

"Not as unlikely as Mulciber's alleged fear of that muggle weapon, what was it called, umbrallo or something? He was never quite the same after that wench stuck the thing in his eye."

"Right."

They both laughed. The rest of the evening was filled with tales of Crucie's lifes at Hogwarts and Rabastan's adventures on Knockturn Alley. Especially those last ones were extremely hilarious at times, making Crucie bless whatever deity it was that protected her uncle from the Aurors. It had to be a damn devoted deity, counting all the times Rabastan had already escaped the not-quite-long-enough arm of the law…

_(Pagebreak)_

Crucie had a gleeful grin on her face when she skipped through Diagon Alley. In her purse she had a gift from her pen pal Arthur Weasley, which he had sent her after she had expressed her interest and fascination with muggle vehicles, and she couldn't wait to share it with Hermione. She would show her that she could have fun without torturing people too!

"Hermione!"

She waved happily at the bushy haired girl standing outside of Florean Fortescue's. In turn, Hermione waved back. It was clear that the girl was slightly nervous about this encounter.

"Hi there Crucie, how've you been?"

"Oh, just the usual. Business is booming at Borgin And Burke's, so actually Mr Burke couldn't miss me, but because I managed to get Medea Henderson sell her collection of rare poisons for 5000 galleons less than the intended price I got a day off and a bonus on top of it!"

Hermione didn't ask how that had gone in detail, she already had a dark brown suspicion about Crucie's haggling tactics. In turn she told her about a city trip to Paris her mother was planning, and about helping out the secretary in the dentist's practice of her parents. Crucie laughed, and then asked what exactly a dentist did. When Hermione gave her a detailed description of root canal treatments and wisdom teeth removal, she got an excited gleam in her eyes.

"What an interesting job! And it's legal in the muggle world?"

Hermione couldn't help but feel that Crucie had somehow missed a turn in the explanation. They abandoned the subject when they reached the Leaky Cauldron.

"I thought you were going to show me Knockturn Alley?"

Crucie grinned.

"Oh, but I will, don't worry. We have all day; my uncle said that he wanted the apartment for himself today. I wanted to take you to Muggle London now, because I have something awesome to test out for our muggle project."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Remember my pen pal? He sent me this."

Crucie pulled a book from her bag, and Hermione paled when she read the title.

"Basic License Driver's Handbook"

_(Pagebreak)_

"We can't do this."

"Sure we can."

"It's illegal!"

"So is torture."

"I don't see your point."

"Come on, live a little! I promise you, I read that book twice! Nothing will happen!"

Hermione and Crucie were standing next to a red Nissan in the middle of London. Crucie was all bouncy with the prospect of driving a muggle vehicle, Hermione… not so much.

"You can't learn how to drive from a book! By the way, how do you intend to open that car, you can't do magic!"

"You can learn magic from a book, I don't see how driving this is any different."

Crucie grinned and took a strangely shaped penknife from her pocket.

"By the way, I borrowed this from my uncle. Can crack any lock, open any door, and break anything open as long as it's not warded too well. And since we're in Muggle London…"

To prove it, she stuck it into the lock of the car, and the car clicked open without a single issue.

"Crucie…"

"Please? I promise you, if we get caught I'll take the blame."

Hermione sighed, and suddenly Ron's words resounded in her head. _"Such a bookworm, lives for her books. Never does anything fun." "What's your boggart? Probably a test without the highest grade." "I wouldn't ask Hermione if I were you, she wouldn't break a rule to save her life." _In no time she got into the car.

"If we get caught…"

"We won't get caught."

Hermione just wanted to ask how Crucie thought to start the car, when the girl armed with her penknife dove under the dashboard.

"What are you doing?"

"Muggle tech project, remember? I actually happen to know how this thing works. Or, I know what I have to do to make it work. My pen pal explained me."

And indeed, after quite a bit of rambling and cussing from under the dashboard, the car started.

"You're sure you know how to drive, right?"

"Left pedal is the clutch, centre is the brake, right is the gas."

"Err… I think so?"

Crucie threw her friend the book.

"Check if you don't believe me!"

She gave the steering wheel a twist, bumped into the back of the car parked behind them, made Hermione scream, and then they were off.

"And we're driving!"

"You already managed to hit something."

"We're still driving, so it probably wasn't too bad. Any idea what this does?"

Crucie fuddled with a couple buttons, and suddenly music blasted through the car.

_Very superstitious, writing's on the wall… Very superstitious, ladders bout' to fall... Thirteen month old baby, broke the lookin' glass, seven years of bad luck, the good things in your past…_

"This is one catchy tune! Is that muggle music?"

"Stevie Wonder. Superstition." Hermione said, before she screamed, "Crucie please watch the ROAD INSTEAD OF YOUR FEET!"

"I just keep forgetting the pedals when I don't watch them…"

Crucie decided that the book had made it look easy. How did muggles do this? This vehicle didn't listen to her commands like a broom, and it had far too many things to push, pull and fuddle with for her taste. While Crucie was trying her best to concentrate on the right pedals, and the clutch, and the road, and the traffic, Hermione was having a minor panic attack next to her.

"Oh my god we are so going to get arrested and my parents will kick me out and then I'll never get my O.W.L.S! "

"That you're thinking about that… What does red light mean again?"

"RED MEANS STOP!"

"Oh, right. Sorry. So I turn here right?"

"THAT'S THE WRONG LANE!"

_"When you believe in things that you don't understand, then you suffer… Superstition ain't the way, no, no, no!"_

With Stevie Wonder on the background and Hermione's panicky advice screamed in-between, it was a wonder indeed that they somehow made it back relatively unscathed to the parking lot where they had stolen the car. They had only missed two red lights, broken one speed-regulation, and gotten on the wrong lane twice. Forgetting the parked vehicles and occasional garbage can they had scratched that wasn't too bad at all… For a fourteen-year-old first time driver on the streets of London it was even quite a feat, Crucie thought. She moved the car back into its original spot, this time hitting the car in front of it. Then she leaned back in her seat and grinned at her pale friend.

"Not bad for a first time, huh?"

Hermione looked as if she wanted to protest, but then a grin broke through on the girl's face.

"I can't believe we did this."

Crucie laughed.

"So, fun or not?"

"I am not doing it again, if that's what you're asking!"

_(Pagebreak)_

A few things were clear from the trip in the muggle vehicle, Crucie thought. One, how muggles steered those 'cars' with only two feet and their eyes constantly on the road was a true mystery to her. Two, if she would ever plan on actually driving a car for longer than a trip around the block, she would need lots of practice. And then Three, muggles made some real nice music.

"So, want to see Knockturn Alley now?"

Hermione was still in a state between exhilaration and shock, so Crucie just pulled her along to the Leaky Cauldron, and from Diagon Alley to the illustrious street. Hermione looked slightly uncertain at the often dusty shop windows. Crucie happily waved at a small, one-eyed man with a particularly ugly face who was just exiting a particularly murky looking shop.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Moribund!"

"Yer uncle must me 10 galleons yet, missy! Tell'em, will ye?"

"Sure, Mr. Moribund! By the way, thank you for the book, it was very instructive!"

"Yer welcome, missy. Now off ye go, dun't want yer pretty friend to faint from me complexion, huh?"

Hermione was indeed looking rather pale. Crucie pulled her with her.

"That was Mr. Moribund. He's really friendly when you get to know him, often lets me borrow his necromancy books."

Hermione really didn't want to know what Crucie might need necromancy books for. She felt very badly at ease. Crucie had clearly no idea of her friend's discomfort, happily babbling away and leading Hermione to another shop already.

"Now, this is The Spiny Serpent. Lucy lets me in sometimes to practice my parseltongue, but the snakes always make fun of me because I apparently have a speech impediment. And my sentences don't always make too much sense. I'll see if she's there then I can show you the Runespoor that she brought in last week. It's really pretty!"

"Err… Crucie… I would rather go to your house now, if that's okay… I'm… I'm not really good with snakes, or… well… you know. Any dark stuff, actually."

"Oh." Crucie bit her lip and blushed embarrassedly when she caught her friend's eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm being unthinking again, no? We'll go to the apartment. My uncle will just have to deal with us, it's not as if he's doing something important anyway."

And so Hermione got to enter the house that harbored the apartment of the Lestranges. It was an old Victorian townhouse, the rooms were magically enlarged on the inside according to Crucie, but the staircase and entrance hall were truly crammed.

"We live on the top floor, but the attic is ours too. The previous owner wanted to get rid of all his old rubbish, so he sold us the apartment and gave us the attic on top if we took everything that was in there. Which made my uncle the proud owner of a true mountain of doxy dung, among some other things."

Despite being shocked and uncomfortable, Hermione had to laugh. When they reached the top floor, music could be heard from behind the door. Music, or more precisely, a loud bass, weird screeching and a raspy voice going on about something unintelligible.

"The Green Flash. My uncle's favorite wizard band. I'm surprised he's not deaf yet at this volume."

Rolling her eyes she opened the door for Hermione, who entered and got treated to an interesting sight. Rabastan Lestrange, caught in the act… of mating. On the carpet.

"UNCLE?! WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Hermione didn't know where to hide her eyes when Crucie screamed out indignantly at her half-naked uncle and the unknown brunette under him. Surprised and confused, Rabastan grabbed his wand from the floor and spelled the music to stop playing. He quickly got up and pulled up his pants, his cheeks tomato red in embarrassment.

"Crucie, why are you here? And who is THAT?"

"I could ask you the same thing!"

"I told you I wanted the apartment for myself!"

The brunette, who had been somewhat forgotten on the carpet, now looked up, wiping her dark brown curls from her face.

"Rabbit, who is that?"

Crucie's mouth fell open, not so much at the hilarious nickname but at the face of the woman her uncle had been ravishing.

"Andrea Perkins? Madam Malkin's assistant?"

"Yeah, who's asking?"

Crucie didn't answer the girl; instead she sent a dangerously red-eyed glare at Rabastan. It was clear the girl could barely control herself. She pulled Hermione forward and said,

"This is my best friend, Hermione Granger. She's just like Andrea so if you dare say anything about it you're the biggest hypocrite alive!"

"Crucie…"

Crucie stormed to her room, pulling Hermione with her and leaving Rabastan alone to let his girlfriend out, and probably erase her memory of the events. Inside her room, she plopped on her bed, looking tormented at her still rather shell-shocked friend.

"That. Was. SO. Embarrassing. I'm terribly sorry you had to see that. Really. I love my family, but… sometimes I HATE them! How could he do that to me?!"

"What did you mean, I am just like that woman?"

"Muggleborn."

"Oh."

It took them both some time to process. Hermione tried to order her thoughts, and while she did so she looked at Crucie's room. It could easily pass for a Knockturn Alley shop display, with all the bizarre items she had on shelves and the arcane looking diagrams that hung on the wall next to blueprints of cars and batteries and a stray shopping list.

"So… you mean the fierce death eater Rabastan Lestrange allows a muggleborn woman to call him Rabbit?"

"Apparently."

Crucie sighed, looking downright miserable.

"You probably never want to talk to me again now… Gosh, I hate my uncle sometimes… I should have cruciated him for that…"

"I'll admit, the sight of your uncle having sex was not exactly something I wanted to see, ever, but… to see the positive side of it, you have proven me indisputably that he is as human as we all are. Plus, I can hardly be terrified of someone nicknamed Rabbit."

Crucie looked up, somewhat disbelieving.

"So you… you don't mind?"

Hermione shrugged. She had been engaged in car theft and driving without a license, been pulled through Knockturn Alley, and invited into the home of a wanted man and known death eater… She supposed there were worse things than finding said death eater with his pants down. It was better than being held at wandpoint by him, in any case.

"I suppose I don't… I mean… it's not the worst thing that could have happened."

"No?" A number of increasingly disgusting scenarios passed before Crucie's mental eye, before she sighed and nodded. "I guess it's not the worst thing. Still scores pretty high though."

Hermione looked at Crucie's bookcase, slightly in awe.

"Wow… have you read all these?"

"Not yet, I've read most but there are some that I don't understand a single word of."

"Where did you get them?"

"Oh, most are gifts. From Mr. Burke, from uncle Lucius, from uncle Rabastan… they know I like books, so it's an easy gift. Only, unless I specifically ask for something, Uncle Lucius doesn't really pay attention to what book he grabs from his library. That's how I got the ones I don't understand. I even have a Swedish arithmancy textbook! Apparently there's a bunch of Malfoys living in Scandinavia."

Soon, Hermione and Crucie were discussing books and their project again, and the issue with Crucie's uncle was all forgotten. Rabastan hadn't forgotten at all. Instead he was worrying about how he would make it up to his goddaughter and explain her his… "encounter" with Andrea Perkins. He felt disgusted with himself. Any true reason he could come up with involved secrets being uncovered, and he just didn't feel like that. Not yet. Sighing, he sat behind his desk and let his hand wander to the drawer where he kept his photographs. It hurt to look at them, but he felt he deserved a little pain after probably mentally scarring his goddaughter for life…

**(Author's Notes)**

**New story! This was one of my favorite chapter to write... **

**Driving lessons: very needed if you want to learn how to drive. You can't learn it from a book. Absolutely not. Also, Hermione's first small steps on the path of darkness! (Car theft, nice to start with, no?) **

**And then poor Rabastan... *sigh* By now I think it is clear who he is pining after... Yeah, I think he's not really as much of a bigot as some people make him (and all other death eaters too) seem. Sure, he's a dark wizard, and one without too much of a conscience too, but his "hatred of muggleborns" is rooted in something else than prejudice alone. **

**Also, he has a mild case of arachnophobia. And a love of Chocolate Fudge Pie. And he is nicknames Rabbit. Can you blame me for thinking him my favorite character? **

**PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! **

**I live on and long for your reviews, they make my day each time! It's not a big effort, just let me know what you thought and I'll be grateful forever!**


	2. That Which Is Of True Importance

"Crucie… can we talk?"

"Do we have to?"

"Yes. We do."

To say that things had been tense between Crucie and her uncle was a euphemism. Crucie spent all her time outside and downright refused conversation with Rabastan, and even Mr Burke hadn't been able to convince her that she really needed to talk things through.

"About what?"

"This. This… situation."

Rabastan had finally managed to corner her, and now she had no choice but to face him. With raised eyebrows she said.

"So, are we going to talk about your hypocrisy?"

"Yes. Among other things. But… please, hear me out okay?"

Crucie nodded. The "situation" had been painful for her too; she missed talking to her uncle. They went to sit down and Rabastan sighed, wiping his long hair from his face.

"I don't hate all muggleborns."

"I've seen that."

"Hear me out. I don't hate all of them. I just…" He sighed again, clearly in struggle with himself, "I know you are a little young to understand this, but… Sometimes a person gets so devastated that there is nothing left on his mind but revenge. And sometimes death isn't enough for revenge. When someone has put you through so much pain that the world has lost all color and meaning on a fundamental level, death isn't enough of a punishment. Then the only thing you can do is make that person feel like you do, make the world burn and let him know that it's his fault."

Crucie thought about that. She had never seen this look in his eyes before, a look of determined, slightly crazed despair, and something about what he had told her rung a bell. She didn't really know what to say to him though.

"Uncle…"

"What I meant was, I don't personally hate all muggleborns. I don't like the idea of them, sure, but I don't know them; it takes more than a little heritage for me to truly hate someone. It's rather that they're…"

"Victims to a greater cause?"

Rabastan's eyes widened, and he looked at his goddaughter in surprise. Crucie gave him a small smile.

"I know I'm young and inexperienced, but if there's one thing in this world I understand, it's pain. I don't blame you for wanting revenge, uncle. I love you. If you keep quiet about Hermione to uncle Lucius, I'll keep quiet about your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend. She was simply a vice I couldn't resist."

"Whatever you name it. I just don't want to see that ever again. Like, never ever, ever. Please don't screw on the carpet anymore."

"I'll warn you in advance."

"Please, that would be most courteous."

They looked at each other, and they both burst out laughing at each other's facial expression.

"Crucio, you are a gem, you know that?"

"Of course I do, that's why you love me so!"

"There's chocolate fudge pie in the kitchen."

"Who's first gets more!"

They both ran off to the kitchen, and in a moment the tension was all gone. Only Crucie now had gotten another puzzle piece of her family's bizarre history, and it made her heart heavy to know how unhappy her uncle felt below his careless façade…

_(Pagebreak)_

"I have a surprise for you, Crucie… A belated birthday gift."

Crucie's eyes widened in glee... Uncle Rabastan looked positively excited about it, so it had to be something good. Her birthday had been before the pants-down-debacle so perhaps this was more of a guilt-gift than a birthday gift, but she didn't care.

"Really? What is it?"

"We will have to go somewhere else for it. However, the location is a secret for now." He took out his wand and cast a sound-muffling spell on her, and then they flooed to the unknown location. This location turned out to be a chilly, dark house that had clearly been uninhabited for a long time. Once it must have been beautiful though, Crucie mused. The floor of the entrance hall was laid out as a checkerboard of black and white marble, and even though the grand staircase was dirty and possibly rotten, a bit of the former glory shone through in the intricately sculpted wood. Everything was dusty and dirty, and she thought she saw some kind of mold in one of the corners of the hall… yet despite that, it was still unmistakably a grand house. Crucie wondered why her uncle had brought her there. She turned to him, and met his melancholic gaze.

"Where are we?"

Rabastan lifted the muffling spell and said,

"Welcome to Lestrange Manor, Crucie. You probably don't remember, but you have lived here."

Crucie's mouth fell open.

"Really? But… how…"

"After they arrested your parents, the property was seized by the ministry. Everything that could be considered valuable has since been removed, and squatters have taken care of the rest."

Rabastan's eyes were hard and cold now.

"The ministry didn't even keep up the wards that repelled animals, so if you hear something it's probably an intruding critter."

Crucie was speechless. The house was cold, and draughty, but she felt a rather burning hot sense of hatred towards those who had wronged her family so deeply.

"If everything is gone… why are we here?"

"The definition of 'valuable' is a subjective one, Crucie."

With that, Rabastan led his goddaughter up the stairs. They had to go quite a distance before they reached the top floor. Rabastan waved his wand at an inconspicuous spot on the ceiling and said.

_"Ostende Quod Est De Verum Meritum."_

Crucie translated and whispered to herself.

"Reveal what is of true importance…"

That moment, a hatch became visible, and when Rabastan pulled it open a well-oiled ladder rolled down. Crucie didn't know what to think of it; the whole excursion had somewhat caught her unawares.

"How did the Ministry never find this?"

"They weren't looking for something like this. They looked for items with strong magical signature, dark artefacts, money and heirlooms. Nothing of sorts can be found up there."

When they entered the hidden attic, Crucie was surprised to see how clean everything was. Her uncle grinned.

"It seems that mom's dust repelling charms are still strong as ever…"

Crucie looked around in wonder, curious to see the items that were of "true importance" to the Lestrange family. There were several bookcases, cardboard boxes, trunks…

"What is all this?"

"For one, the self-updating family annals, the birth registry, our genealogy all the way to the founder of the family… It's a true archive, a chronicle of our family's proceedings."

"But why is this more important than anything else?"

"Our family has always held the conviction that no matter what would happen to us, we had to make sure we would never forget our ancestry and the behavior that is required of a descendant of the Lestrange house. My father used to say that they could take everything from you except for your upbringing, and that a nobleman was only as noble as how he conducted himself. Hence that our heritage is more important than money or power."

Crucie suddenly felt proud of her family. It was very different from the way the Malfoys conducted themselves, by example. Draco always boasted with his richness and the powerful position of his father, yet Crucie doubted he knew anything about how his family had gained the power and money he liked to brag about so much.

"Thank you for showing me this, uncle… Preserving our history is indeed of true importance. Do I show up in the annals too?"

Rabastan smiled warmly.

"Oh, I am pretty sure you do. But that wasn't what we're here for. I would love to show you the Annals once, but now I wanted to give you something you've asked me for a while ago."

He opened a couple of trunks and dug through them. Suddenly he stopped.

"Well have I ever."

He took out a pair of high-heeled black shoes from a box.

"Your mother's first dueling shoes. She said they were lucky… I had no idea she had stored them here… This whole box appears to belong to Bella…"

Immediately Crucie was at his side. The box contained several robes and a corset, a rather worn makeup box, some slightly crumpled spell books, a small book with a leather cover, and a packet of yellowed letters tied together with a red ribbon. Rabastan and Crucie just stared at it for a while.

"Your mother must have stored it here after she moved in. These… I think this… this was her Hogwarts trunk, I think."

He wiped over the top, and indeed; in gilded letters the trunk read "Property of Bellatrix D. Black."

Crucie bit her lip.

"What are those things?"

"Some robes that didn't fit her anymore I suppose, her old dueling shoes, her Hogwarts books, some of your father's letters… and this."

Rabastan handed Crucie the leather-bound book. When she opened it, she was met with a plethora of magical photographs. A young Bellatrix smiled at her from the first page with a new broom in her hand. In the next photo she could be seen on the broom close to the ground, while a small blonde girl in a pink dress ran after her. Aunt Narcissa had been cute once, what a surprise! Then the photos showed a couple, a stern, black-haired man with a permanent frown next to a delicate looking woman with blonde hair and a gorgeous complexion. It was clear that the Black sisters had each taken after another parent… The next pictures were all of Narcissa, or Narcissa and Bellatrix, although there were several blank spots in the album, indicating that photos had been removed. Crucie stroked the album, and noticed she was crying, again. She felt her uncle put an arm around her.

"I'm sorry Cruce, I didn't want to upset you…"

"It's okay… I just… I miss them so much."

"I know. I miss them too."

They hugged, and stayed like that for a while. Finally, Rabastan packed the trunk again and shrunk it so they could easily take it with them. The letters he put in his own pocket though, and Crucie found that she was grateful for that. No matter how much she missed her parents, some things she just didn't need to know about them...

"I wanted to see if I could find you some photos… I guess we were lucky to find your mother's trunk amidst all of this. The old family albums are around here somewhere too, but finding them could take hours."

Crucie hugged her uncle again.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Crucie. Now, I have another surprise for you."

"Another one?"

Rabastan grinned widely, his melancholia all forgotten.

"Oh yes. We're going to the Quidditch World Cup Finals!"

"Huh? Really?"

Rabastan laughed mysteriously.

"Well, we're not just going there for the sweaty men on broomsticks, we're planning to make a little game of our own… Besides, we're not going alone. Consider this a family excursion!"

Crucie was practically bouncing with excitement now.

"What are we going to do?"

"It's about time you get introduced into the fine art of Muggle-Baiting, my dear goddaughter!"

**(Author's Notes)**

**Rabastan makes up with Crucie! We all knew they wouldn't stay mad at each other for long... Rabastan is a tiny little bit unhinged. I think that was to be expected from someone in the death eater profession; they're all a little mad in their own way (even Lucius. What do I say, Lucius most definitely!) As for their conversation on the Lestrange's secret attic... I actually believe in what Rabastan says. I am a firm believer in the value of good manners. Just so you know. ;) **

**Also, baby Narcissa was definitely adorable.**

**And trust me, family excursions in the extended family of Crucio Lestrange are NO walk in the park... **

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Questions will be answered, Critics are loved and welcomed, and Compliments make me blush :) Please?**


	3. A So-Called Quest For Glory

On the train, Crucie still grinned when the event crossed her mind again. It had been absolutely hilarious. Uncle Rabastan had braved the foul taste of polyjuice potion, and then they had met up with Uncle Lucius, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle, Walden Macnair and a man named Jugson on the campsite. The Quidditch match had been exciting for any lover of the sport, and most the men had happily indulged in yelling and cheering for their favorite team. Rabastan had been only moderately interested though, and Crucie still couldn't see what could be so amazing about a bunch of men flying around on brooms. Uncle Lucius had taken seats in the top box, even though he didn't like Quidditch all that much. According to Uncle Rabastan that was a political thing.

When the match was –finally- over, they had gotten to the real purpose of the excursion. Crucie had gotten a black robe with a pointy hat and a simple white mask, and then she had been ceremonially introduced to the "Fine Art of Muggle-Baiting". She couldn't use her wand of course, but she had happily cruciated the muggles they had "baited". She could still hear their screaming… All in all it had been a great experience that still made her giddy when she thought about it. It had ended with a downer though when suddenly the dark mark had appeared in the sky. Rabastan had yelled something about it being a ministry trap and they had all fled the premises. If she had learned one thing from that, it was that side-along emergency apparition was a highly nauseating affair.

As usual no one had come to share her compartment on the Hogwarts Express, and Crucie liked it best that way. She took out her Torture Registry and looked at the photos she had stuck in it for safekeeping. She had a new one now; Jugson had insisted they made a photo of the group before they put on their robes, and so Crucie had gotten a group portrait of the first unofficial death eater meeting since the downfall of the Dark Lord. Uncle Rabastan didn't look like himself but his grin was more than recognizable, and Crucie would have sworn she could see Uncle Lucius roll his eyes in the picture. It still made her giggle.

"Hey Crucie! How were the holidays?"

Hermione entered the compartment, and Crucie quickly closed her Registry.

"Great, how were yours?"

"Absolutely amazing, we went to the Quidditch World Cup Finals and it was just awesome!"

"I didn't know you were a quidditch fan?"

"You should have seen it, there were witches and wizards from all over the world! It was more than just quidditch, it was like a cultural expedition!"

"I know right! I was there too…"

"What?! Really? Why didn't you sit with Draco then, in the top box?"

"I was with some friends and my other uncle, we had cheap seats but it was fun nonetheless."

Hermione's look darkened a bit.

"Right. Him."

Crucie bit her lip. Of course Hermione would make the connection between an alleged death eater attack, and a known death eater and his friends being there. She opened her mouth to say something about it, but Hermione shook her head.

"Don't ask, don't tell. I don't want to know."

Crucie nodded.

"No problem."

"I'm already involved in enough of your criminal activities as it is. Seriously, that car?"

"Don't object; you thought it was awesome too. On another accord, I've finally determined the exact quantity of lacewings for the battery potion, and now the potion should be ready for detailed testing!"

When they started talking about their research project, the "criminal activities" dissipated into the background of their minds. Crucie knew for sure however that the "death eater attack" might come back to bite her in the ass if she wasn't careful…

_(Pagebreak)_

"Tsss… The Triwizard Tournament, a ssso-called quessst for glory… tssss."

Salazar Slytherin was clear in what he thought about the famous tournament being organized at Hogwarts.

"You're not one for glory then?"

"I'm not one for tournamentssss and tourneysss… 'quessting for glory' sssounds sssusspiciousssly much like sssomething Godric would like to do in hisss ssspare time."

That made Crucie giggle.

"Well, our year can't compete anyway… There's going to be the Yule Ball however, and the delegations of the other schools… It's definitely going to be exciting."

"Tssss."

Regina chose that moment to stick her ghostly head through the wall of the corridor.

_"Strange Pain! I figured you would be here... I missed you!"_

The serpent sounded happy.

"Hi Regina. How was your summer?"

_"Boring as always, little hatchling. Have you practiced your tongue?"_

Crucie smiled.

"I tried, but it was hard without feedback. I tried talking to Madam Lucy's snakes on Knockturn Alley, but from what I understood they just made fun of me."

Salazar chuckled dryly.

"Well, letssss hear it!"

Crucie braced herself and hissed.

/Agreeable summer short been invaluable nature./

Salazar slowly nodded.

"You tried to sssay the ssssummer wasss ssshort but you enjoyed it very much?"

Crucie nodded excitedly.

"So, I was comprehensible?"

"Ssssurprisingly sssso, even."

_"Comprehensible because we anticipated what you were going to say, yes. I can see why the snakes made fun of you though. No forked tongue, little hatchling!"_

"Basically you're saying I have a speech impediment."

_"But you do! Your words are jumbled because you have only had a year of study… but your pronunciation, like you have a prey half in your mouth!"_

A shameful blush crept on Crucie's cheeks, and the basilisk ghost curled further into the corridor, around her.

_"Don't feel embarrassed, you can't help the shape of your tongue… It'll get better when you study more, little hatchling. You already speak far better than I dared anticipate."_

"Regina issss quite correct, Missss Lestrange. You are very perceptive to the language."

"Oh?"

"The way ssshe teachesss you, it isss sssubconscious learning, Misss Lestrange. You assimilate her ssspeech by ordening your mind and forcing it to make the connection between the heard and the perceived. You're doing exceptional ssso far."

Crucie blushed again, proudly this time. It was true; there was no need to be embarrassed. A year ago she would never have believed it possible to even learn a tiny tidbit of the illusive snake speech.

_"So, have you seen that delectable young man of yours again? God's Night, or what was his name?"_

"Regina!"

_"I'm just trying to be helpful here, little hatchling…"_

Crucie already knew this was going to be an exciting year. There was the tournament, the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, the Yule Ball, quite possibly a lot of slander –she was getting used to it- the weird new DADA teacher, and then of course the muggle tech project in which she had made a lot of progress over the summer. And if his track record were anything to go by, the famous Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy would also cause some ruckus for himself and his friends.

"I'm really not in need of a partner, Regina."

_"You say that now. Wait until you're old and dead and childless, like me. You'll see, I'm right!"_

Crucie couldn't help but snicker, to Regina's disdain.

_"Mark my words, little hatchling, mark my words!"_

With that, the snake slithered away into the wall again. Salazar shook his head, looking down from his portrait frame on a slightly baffled Crucie.

"Tssss… You're upsssetting Regina, Missss Lestrange… You ssshould know ssshe takesss those thingsss very sssseriously… Don't be sssurprisssed if ssshe decidesss to continue your lessons during the night now…"

Yeah, Crucie realized upsetting the basilisk had not been the smartest move… And she doubted that Regina would give her any peace before she hooked up with someone. Damn that snake…

**(Author's Notes)**

**It took me a while (exams, glitchy internet) but here is a new chapter! It's a tiny one, but I still hope it doesn't disappoint... Regina isn't really angry, she's just miffed and being her good old self. Also, Hermione has started employing the "hear no evil see no evil" tactic to live with Crucie's torturous hobbies... **

**And yes, Crucie has a speech impediment when it comes to Parseltongue. She doesn't have it inborn, so it was to be expected, no? It'll get better ;)**

**PLEASE REVIEW! **

**I'm in the middle of a murderous exam period, and so far the exams I've done are almost certainly going to be retaken in summer. Which makes for a very hopeless and sad me. Please light up my life with a little review! Your words are like a tiny speck of hope in my very depressive world right now...**


	4. Cursed For The Very First Time

For the first time in her school career, Crucie felt respect for a DADA teacher. Seeing ones cousin bounce around in the shape of a terrified little white ferret kind of did that to a person. While she had been looking for Hermione, she had seen how Draco baited the Weasley twat and insulted Potter's parents. Al in all he had been his usual bastardly self, nothing out of the ordinary there. He had tried to curse Potter though; right on the moment the new defense professor had made himself known. The creepy guy had been watching them from the shadows, and Crucie hadn't even seen him there!

She had watched the scene from a distance, curious to see how the weird new professor would solve the conflict between Draco and Hermione's friends. It had surprised her greatly that the professor had promptly transfigured Draco into a ferret and humiliated him a bit in public… She was convinced his classes would be interesting.

It turned out that they were. Alastor Moody was a short man with one eye, one leg, and only half a nose. A peg leg replaced the missing one, and an eerie magical eye rolled wildly in his empty eye socket. His whole body and face were marred with scars and al in all he looked like a dangerous madman. Crucie liked him from the moment she saw him.

The introduction was short, and Professor Moody got to the subject of the class fairly quickly.

"Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year...How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? ...You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful."

Anticipation started to build up in Crucie, and she could feel the curse at her fingertips, waiting, desperately hoping for a chance to come out.

"We're going to discuss the Unforgivable Curses today. Anyone know what those are?"

Crucie happily raised her hand, but Hermione got to answer.

"The Unforgivables are three curses declared illegal in 1717. Use of them has since been prohibited and is punished with a lifelong sentence in Azkaban."

Right. Sometimes Crucie wondered how she had managed to become friends with Hermione Granger. Was that truly all she could say about the Unforgivables?

"Correct. And what are these curses?"

"The Cruciatus, the Imperius and the Killing Curse, respectively to torture, control and kill a victim."

"Concise but correct."

Moody moved back to his desk and took out a cage of spiders, making some girls shudder. He rolled both his eyes at that.

"If you're already shuddering at a little spider, then I wonder what you're going to do when you're face to face with a dark wizard. Now…"

He took one spider out of the cage and placed it on the desk, confining it in a small circle with a flick of his wand.

"The Imperius is a mind control curse. The caster can make the victim do his biding, whatever that may be."

He pointed his wand at the spider.

_"Imperio."_

"Total control. I could make this spider do anything now. I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…"

He grinned, and the spider launched itself at Ron Weasley, making the boy yelp in fear as the spider landed on his head. Once more, Crucie felt her respect for the teacher grow, especially since he had targeted Weasley. The lesson proceeded with more demonstrations of the Imperius Curse, and Crucie diligently took note of the effects. It was highly amusing, and she felt a big, toothy grin had formed itself on her face. Of course Moody noticed.

"Well, well, someone thinks this is amusing, no?"

Crucie nodded, not afraid to say so.

"Would you still think so if I had ordered one of your classmates to attack you?"

The Professor's magical eye rolled dangerously at her, but Crucie –having three years of experience with the unsettling of DADA teachers- wasn't moved and gave away a strange combination of Malfoy blankness and Rabastan's evil grin while looking at him.

"Maybe not, Sir. It would depend however."

"Depend on what, exactly?"

"How well they perform while in pain."

It was said innocently, but everyone knew what it meant. A barely audible gasp went through the class group. Moody's good eye gave her a suspicious glare.

"Pain, you say? That brings us to the second unforgivable… Since you seem to know so much about pain, would enlighten your classmates?"

Crucie smiled. She knew the professor was mocking her, but she wasn't planning on letting him have a victory over her.

"The Cruciatus Curse is a torture curse, causing immediate and extreme pain in the victim when cast appropriately."

"And how, exactly, would you define appropriate?"

"With the most sincere intent. The Cruciatus is an emotion-based curse, it's strength is dependent on how strongly the caster feels."

"So, you say that by example righteous anger would give the curse more strength, then?"

"Depends. I think sometimes there is a mental barrier that keeps emotions from feeding the curse. A subconscious dislike of causing pain, if you want. When you place someone under the Imperius you have to feel very strongly what you want your victim to do and have no qualms with forcing your will on someone. The Cruciatus is not so different, it requires intent, strong intent of causing the most vicious and devastating of pains in your victim."

Moody looked suspicious and yet impressed.

"Well well…"

He turned to the class.

"The lady here made a good point. The Unforgivables, they are about intent. You could try if you like, point your wand at me all together and attempt to cruciate me, kill me, or place me under your control, and I am a hundred percent certain it wouldn't have the slightest effect. And that's a good thing, unless you want to spend the rest of your days in Azkaban."

Then he turned back to her.

"You know quite a lot about the Unforgivables…"

"Personal interest, sir."

"I see. What is your name?"

"Crucio Black, sir."

The professor's eyes widened and his mouth opened in surprise.

"No way… It can't be… You… you were…"

The whole class was following their conversation; after all Crucie's scarce contributions to DADA class were rather famous. Crucie was surprised however, almost as surprised as the professor appeared. She had expected that her name would have a bit of a shock effect, but this was rather unusual. Finally, Moody got himself together.

"Miss Black, I would like to include you in a demonstration of your namesake."

The class gasped again. Crucie reveled inside; she secretly hoped he would try the curse on her. Rabastan had refused to do it, and so had Mr. Burke, and she hadn't known who else she could ask.

Moody tortured the spider first to show the class, and then he asked her.

"Miss Black. I wouldn't ask this of any other student, and you have every right to decline, of course. Will you allow me to demonstrate the curse on you?"

Immediately gasps went through the class. Someone dared to remark out loud.

"That's illegal!"

Moody rolled his magical eye and sighed.

"I have a ministry permit to demonstrate the Unforgivable curses in a non-harmful way. Trust me when I say this falls under that. So, Miss Black?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Very well. _Crucio_."

It felt odd. Not really painful, more ticklish. It was as if the curse inside her and the curse cast on her hummed in the same rhythm, and Crucie closed her eyes for a moment, trying to savor the feeling. She had locked out the gasps and whispering of her classmates, and felt the buildup inside her. She realized that if the professor wouldn't lift the curse, she would be obliged to give him his own back, something she wasn't keen on repeating after the Lockhart incident. When she opened her eyes her irises had that red gleam over them, cruciatus red. Seeing that, Moody lifted the curse.

"That was a rather unusual response, Miss Black. Fan of suffering in silence?"

Crucie smiled, but couldn't really concentrate due to the ruckus her magic was making inside her, urging her to curse something, anything. Her eye fell on the spider cage, and as all the spiders started convulsing and making erratic movements, the overt tension left her body. Luckily no one seemed to notice, they were all too busy gossiping already.

"It's an interesting sensation, that much is certain."

"Yes, it is. You're the first person I meet who describes it as such, though."

"It was very educational, Professor Moody. Thank you for enlightening me."

With that she went back to her place. The rest of the lesson went over with more controlled, tortured and dead spiders, and Crucie had the distinct feeling that she and Professor Moody would have interesting conversations in the future.

"One last question to end this lesson. Which of the Unforgivables do you think is worst?"

Multiple hands rose, and most people voted for the Killing Curse. The Cruciatus came second.

"Miss Black, what do you think?"

"The Imperius is worse than the two others."

"Oh?"

"To die is just that, dying. People die anyway, and Avada Kedavra is painless and swift. To be preferred over most other ways of dying, actually. And pain is just that, pain. Life without suffering is impossible anyway. People think those curses are worse because they fear death and pain. The Imperius is different. It feels nice, takes away responsibility, sometimes it gives the victim extra power he wouldn't possess in another situation... People don't fear it, because it won't essentially bring them discomfort. But to not have control or responsibility over ones actions takes away the value of life far more than torture or murder ever could"

Moody's face showed a strangely thoughtful expression.

"For your information, students… I agree with Miss Black. You can go now. Miss Black, I would like to see you tonight, in detention. You're not punished, I just wish to speak to you and I don't have the time right now."

"Of course, professor."

**(Author's Notes)**

**Another chapter! Cursed for the Very First Time, yes indeed: not even Rabastan wanted to curse his goddaughter. Moody/Barty (yeah, we all know that don't we) cruciates Crucie in class, saying he has a permit to demonstrate the Unforgivables in a harmless way. Foreshadowing of the most obvious sort, really... Also, any cruciatus curse thrown at Crucie is guaranteed to come back threefold (in the best case) xD**

**Also, who agrees with me that the Imperius is worse than the other two? (Barty does so for obvious reasons xD)**

**REVIEW PLEASE! **

**I love reviews, and I'm currently in the exam period so I need them too, they're the light in my life! Questions you may have will be answered!**


	5. Constant Vigilance And All That

Outside of class Crucie noticed Neville Longbottom was acting quite distraught. Moody had spoken with him shortly after letting the class go, and now Hermione was with him, so Crucie decided it was safe to go take a look. When she approached them though, Neville took a rather unexpected run for it.

"What was that about?"

Hermione looked worried.

"The curses. The class made him upset I think."

"He bolted as if he was terrified, Hermione. That's far beyond upset."

"Well, he was terrified. Of you."

"What? But I didn't do anything!"

"Earth to Crucio, the whole of Hogwarts is terrified of you, in case you hadn't noticed. Even boggarts are scared of you. Speaking of those, I don't think Neville's boggart is Snape any longer. Besides… are you immune to the Cruciatus, or just very good at not screaming?"

"Immune, apparently. It was like he was feeding my inner curse though; I just had to torture something to let it out. Thank Merlin for those spiders."

Crucie laughed, but Hermione was still looking serious. It looked as if she wanted to say something, but then she turned and said.

"Dinner has started already, I'm off. See you later."

Great. Now Hermione was acting weird too. It would all be so much simpler if they could just teach those curses in class and not look at them as if they were the Holy Grails of evil. For one it would definitely improve her social life, Crucie thought. At least the new professor was putting some effort into it.

_(Pagebreak)_

Hermione wasn't at dinner. Instead she was going to ask the most unlikely person for advice. Making her way into the small, secluded corridor, she doubted her decision already.

"Misss Granger?"

The portrait of Salazar Slytherin hadn't expected the young muggleborn witch to come see him on her own, but there she was. She looked at her feet and shyly said.

"I hope I'm not disturbing, Mr Slytherin. I… I wanted to ask your advice on s-something, since…"

"Thissss isss about the young Missss Lestrange, isssn't it?"

Hermione nodded. She had never felt so in at war with herself before…

"Well, go on then."

"I feel conflicted. You know Crucie better than I do, so I think you understand what I mean. She's… She's influencing me."

"In what way, Misss Granger?"

"I have always had very distinct ideals, very set morals. I thought I had them thought out well, that I had seen things for how they were and that my ideas were unshakable."

"If I may, Misss Granger, that isss very arrogant of you. I am over thoussssand yearsss old and I sssstil don't think I have ssseen things for how they are. You are only fourteen."

"But… It scares me. She confuses me to no end. She has no morals, and yet she… I can't say that I dislike her and that scares me. It feels as if it's the dark that's seducing me."

"Rather melodramatic of you, don't you think? Besssides, how do you know Missss Lestrange has no morals, as you describe it?"

"I… I don't know. I don't know what to think of her anymore. She stole a car, okay she brought it back but still! She got me involved in a criminal act! And then the torture, she tortures anyone and anything she can lay hands on, with an absolute disregard for people's suffering. I am almost certain that over the summer she was part of a pseudo-death-eater attack on the Quidditch World Cup, targeting muggles, and yet… she doesn't seem prejudiced against them. I don't understand her."

"Sssshe told me lotsss about you, Misss Granger. Ssshe dessscribed you asss a worthy persssson; intelligent, brilliant even, and very open-minded. She told me you are her bessst friend, that ssshe consssiders you a sssister."

"Really?"

"Misss Lestrange isss a peculiar girl, Misss Granger, and over the yearsss I've grown quite fond of her. I value her opinion on people, for I have found ssshe issss rarely wrong."

The portrait stared down on Hermione, making her want to shrink.

"Ssshe hasss different moralsss from you, that isss certain. Neither pain nor death sssscare her very much… it could be her nature or the way ssshe wasss raisssed, I don't know. But ssshe issss fiercely loyal, and when you win her friendsssship ssshe will ssstand by you through anything, that much I know. Ssshe's every bit a ssstudent of my houssse, unless it comessss to friendssss and family, then sssshe's all Gryffindor."

Hermione nodded slowly.

"But she… sometimes she seems so ruthless, so cold…"

"To her, torture isss sssimply another sssenssation. Ssshe underssstandsss pain differently from most people, Missss Granger. As for ruthlessssnessss… sssshe iss, very much ssso. Ssshe isss not power-hungry or malevolent, but ruthlessss sssshe will be towardsss anyone who threatensss her, her friendsss or her family."

The portrait sighed.

"Eventually it isss your decisssion, but you mussst know; Crucio Lessstrange isss a great friend but a dangerousss enemy. Choose your battles wisely, Misss Granger."

Hermione nodded, and the portrait gave her a stern look.

"Another thing. If Misss Lestrange makesss a good argument for her point of view, there isss no ssshame in agreeing with it. You are a sssmart witch, if you feel ssshe convincessss you it would do you no good to cling to obsssolete or disssproven ideasss, no matter how unssshakable you once thought them."

Hermione looked up gratefully at the portrait.

"Thank you, Mr. Slytherin. You've helped me a great deal."

"You're welcome, Missss Granger."

When Hermione left the corridor, Salazar watched her go. She was precocious and a bit of a know-it-all, this friend of Crucie. And yet, he could see why Crucie had chosen her as a friend. She wasn't a mindless follower, nor was she a pigheaded moralist who blocked at the slightest deviation from her own ideas. By asking advice from someone she believed knowledgeable on the subject, Hermione Granger had proven him she was indeed a worthy person.

_(Pagebreak)_

"Professor Moody?"

Crucie had returned to the professor's office for her 'detention', but the office was empty, or so it seemed. Suddenly she felt a wand prick in her back. The curse was out before she could stop herself. Alastor Moody found himself on the floor, his face contorted, but only for a moment before Crucie lifted the curse. He growled.

"And there I was going to say something about constant vigilance…"

"I don't do well with people sneaking up on me… sir."

The professor got up and stared at her for a moment. Then an uncharacteristic grin formed on his face.

"It's really you, little curse…"

No one had called her little curse except for her parents and aunt Allie and… It couldn't be him, could it? He had died; it had been in the papers… But then, according to uncle Rabastan the only way you got out of Azkaban was in a coffin so maybe… Suspiciously, Crucie glared at him.

"Who are you?"

"Maybe you don't remember me, but I certainly remember you. You used to ride on my back on the carpet at Malfoy Manor. I remember that you made me put a permanent sticking spell on the cookie jar so Draco's hand would get stuck in it; it took him a whole day in St Mungo's before his hand was free again and Lucius was raging mad at me…"

Crucie's eyes widened.

"Barty Junior?"

"In the flesh. Well, not exactly my flesh at the moment… but still. It's me."

Crucie somewhat threw herself at the man in a bone-crushing hug.

"How did you get out? I thought you were dead! I thought I would never see you again! How is mum? And dad? Did anyone else get free? Why are you even here?"

"Shush, don't yell. I have an important mission. I can't tell you about it, but know that the dark days for our family are almost over, little curse. We will rise to power again and I promise you that this time it won't be for naught. They will pay for what they did to us, they will pay!"

Even with the voice of Alastor Moody Crucie could hear the real Barty Crouch Junior come through. Barty had been the youngest death eater, and therefor often Crucie's target of choice when it came to refining her cruciatus curse. To avoid being cursed he had been obliged to play with her, yet soon she didn't have to threaten him anymore because he enjoyed the games almost as much as she did.

Crucie knew that the "real" adults had often said that Barty was quite a few sickles short of a galleon, and only later she had realized why. Many of their games had involved invisible men that followed them from which they had to hide, and they had organized whole battles with imaginary people they both took awfully serious. When she had grown older she had realized that perhaps they had been more serious to Barty than they had been to her. Azkaban couldn't have done him good…

Despite those thoughts, Crucie knew Barty wouldn't be here under polyjuice potion if he didn't really have a mission.

"If you can't tell me, don't tell me. It's better if I don't know too much."

"Constant vigilance and all that… I'm starting to see where that Moody guy is coming from with that. It's too bad the guy's on the wrong side of the war, think he'd make a great death eater."

Crucie laughed.

"Alastor Mad-Eye Moody, dark wizard catcher supreme, as a death eater?"

"Basically aurors and death eaters do the same shit, only for a different leader. We kill, they kill. We maim, they maim. We raid, they raid. It's all that and nothing else."

That were surprisingly wise words for the likes of Barty Crouch Junior, and they made Crucie smile.

"You're right."

There was a silence, and Crucie's smile fell when she realized she still hadn't asked after her parents. Barty/Alastor seemed to realize that, as he suddenly looked somber. He sighed.

"Did Lucy ever tell you what happened?"

Crucie couldn't help smiling at her uncle's hated nickname, despite the subject. She shook her head and Barty started his story, a haunted look in his good eye.

"It was terrible. We had the Longbottoms, we had them, and when the interrogation failed… We were all so… disthrought. Despaired, distressed, despondent, defeated… It was agony. We could have just gotten away, but the mere thought of that kept us at the job, we wouldn't accept it, we couldn't. So we kept interrogating even though it was useless already, keeping our minds busy, trying to banish the thought… Then the aurors came; perhaps if we hadn't been so at an end we would have made it… There simply were too much of them. Rab was the only one to get away, got into the basement and slipped through the coal hatch, must have done it like that. I tried the backdoor, but they were already there. Your mother killed two of those bastards, before Rod took a curse and she misfired. Next thing I know… there was only horror."

Barty was shaking and shivering as if he were ice cold, his one eye glazed over as if in his mind he was back at Azkaban. Crucie shook him violently.

"Barty! Barty you're not there anymore, break out of it!"

The man shook his head and took a long swig from a small pocket flask.

"Thanks, little curse…" He sighed. "The memories… they're tainted. They're grey. I'm taking something for it along with the polyjuice, to keep it away so I can teach and act… but when I remember…"

He shivered again, and Crucie pulled him in for a hug again. She wanted to cry at the thought of her parents still being there, their minds slowly being pulled apart like Barty's… She knew that Barty had been at a disadvantage from the beginning, and Sirius had seemed rather sane to her, but that didn't soothe her mind. She had felt the dementors herself; she knew what they did to people.

"Your plan will work. They won't suffer much longer."

She didn't just say it for Barty, she said it mostly for herself. The polyjuiced death eater sighed and pulled away from her.

"I know the plan will work, it is perfect."

"And in the meantime, we are going to do fun things. I won't stand for you being this unhappy."

"Fun things?"

Crucie grinned.

"The ferret was fun, right?"

A grin formed on Barty's face.

"It reminded me of the pranks we played on your cousin… Merlin that boy was gullible!"

Crucie suddenly realized something.

"When you remember playing pranks… are those memories grey now?"

Barty shook his head, slowly.

"No… they… they aren't."

"We just have to find enough fun things to remind you of what fun is like and then you'll be okay again, I just know it!"

"If you say so…"

It was only later, back in her dorms, that Crucie realized something else. Her parent's last mission had been interrogating the Longbottoms… Neville's family. And Neville lived with his grandmother, that she remembered from the only decent conversation with Neville she'd ever had. Had they killed them? Maimed them irreversibly was more like it. Suddenly it sort of dawned upon her why Neville was so skittish around her. If he had lost his parents to the curse… she could easily understand it. Crucie went to sleep with the determined thought to somehow make peace with Neville. After all, it would not do to keep someone with right of bloodfeud as an enemy.

**(Author's Notes)**

**Hermione goes for advice to the portrait of Salazar Slytherin, and Crucie meets a childhood friend she thought was dead. I know that Barty was a relatively short time in Azkaban, but... well, he was mad to begin with, and spending years under the Imperius isn't too great for one's mental health either... so I've made him rather unhinged. Hah. **

**PLEASE REVIEW! **

**I need reviews, they make me feel better and I desperately need to feel better because of Exams. In two days I have "Recent World History I" and I'm wholly unprepared... so please, shed some light in my desperate life and leave a comment? Please? *begging kitty face***

**Also, any questions you may have will be answered if you ask them. So ask away!**


	6. A Bloody Temper

When the delegations arrived, Crucie had been dumbstruck to see another familiar face. A face she had secretly hoped was six feet under by now. Igor Karkaroff. He had never been her favorite death eater, and when he had betrayed the others… Crucie wanted the man to be in agony until his mind gave away. She missed almost the whole speech because she could't stop glaring at the Russian man. She felt a poke in her side. Theodore Nott. He whispered urgently at her.

"Black, don't curse the Durmstrang Headmaster. Seriously."

"Don't you remember him, Theo?"

"I do, and trust me I hate him even more than you do. Just… not here."

Theodulf Nott -Theo's father- had been among the death eaters that Karkaroff had betrayed to the ministry, so essentially Karkaroff was responsible for the debacle that had pulled apart Theo's family. Crucie nodded stiffly. She wasn't the only one who was having trouble, she knew that much now. Because of her focus on Kakaroff she had missed the other two jury-members sitting at the head table, and only now she saw that one of them was Bartemius Crouch Senior. Another man she despised. Yet again, Barty's hate would probably top hers; he had always despised his father and the affection had been mutual. It had been a tough nut to crack for the old Crouch –according to Uncle Rabastan- that his son had a "mental affliction", and he had avoided being around the boy from the moment the problems had manifested themselves. He was the one who had sent her parents and his own son to Azkaban after a phony trial with barely any proof. If only she could get her hands on him…

"Black, you're doing it again. Stop staring. It makes you look really creepy and I'm freaking terrified with all those new people here."

"It's Crouch…"

"I know. I don't care what you do if you meet him in a dark corner, but don't do it in public, okay?"

Again she nodded, reluctantly. When she got in a conversation with the Durmstrang students at their table, the anger sank back a bit. It was fascinating how well the dark arts were taught on the continent; apparently there the cruciatus wasn't illegal in the context of study. It made Crucie dream of moving and starting a new life in Scandinavia…

_(Pagebreak)_

Crucie's temper flared constantly. Professor Snape suspected she was responsible for many of the "accidents" in the corridors - unsuspecting students that suddenly broke down crying in pain for a couple moments- but with all the delegates around he could hardly call her out on it. Besides, with the Durmstrang students –all dark wizards- you never knew, and there was quite a bit of enmity between the schools now that Hogwarts had two champions. Of course Harry Potter had had to get involved in it all…

"I don't know what is wrong with me!"

_"Strange Pain, you have to calm down!"_

/Nothing is pleasure like to sink my fangs despicable that man!/

_"I know, little hatchling. I know you want revenge. But I would hate to see you get arrested, so you should really calm down. Besides, congratulations on using an almost perfect parseltongue expression!"_

"Thanks…"

Crucie walked quickly through the halls with her robes billowing behind her, not really going somewhere but just trying to stay out of people's way before she cursed them to insanity. It just wasn't normal, the way she was tense and curse-eager. If it were only Crouch and Karkaroff that brought her to that it would be understandable, but it was everything and everyone that ticked her off.

Regina floated around her, acting as an extra people deterrent and worriedly informing after the reasons for her hatchling's more than foul mood.

"I don't know what it is, Regina. It's as if my magic is completely off balance!"

_"Maybe it's your moon, Strange Pain. Have you had your first moon cycle yet?"_

Crucie remembered the very awkward conversation with uncle Rabastan on the topic of female reproductive organs, and how he had stutteringly tried to explain her how that all functioned inside, before telling her she should see Aunt Narcissa about it. At the time it had just been gross and slightly comical, actually. Now she gave it a second thought.

"I'm not bleeding."

_"Yet. Salazar always complained when the Raven Lady's moon cycle was closing in she would be in a terrible mood, attacking people for no reason. She once cursed his bits because he commented on it."_

That made Crucie laugh again, the thought of the imposing Rowena Ravenclaw being anything but dignified and stoic was completely new to her.

_"If you need to curse, just come to the Chamber. Rats and other critters in abundance, and I think your tongue is good enough to open it now."_

"Regina, I don't know what I would do without you."

_"You're my little hatchling, and I care for my eggs you know."_

It took a moment before Crucie realized what the serpent ghost had just told her. If Regina considered her one of her eggs… she considered her a daughter. It was a strange, albeit strangely comforting thought.

_(Pagebreak)_

As usual, the Weasley twat had gotten into a fight with his friends again, and Hermione had to play peacemaker, again. Crucie really wondered why her friend put up with the redhead; he didn't do much except for insulting her in both word and deed. And Harry Potter wasn't much better; the guy was a walking trouble magnet and a prime example of Gryffindor brashness. But at least he was loyal to his friends, other than Weasley, and loyalty was something Crucie could respect.

Crucie got pulled from her thoughts by a playful, dry sounding voice.

"Ey Black, The ingredients are dead already, you don't have to stab them anymore."

The "detentions" with Snape had continued, as a way for the Slytherin head to keep an eye on his best friend's ward, and so Crucie's budding friendship with Theodore Nott had continued as well. She looked up, annoyed at the boy.

"Seriously Nott, back off. I'm having trouble not cursing people, you don't want to piss me off now."

Theodore raised an eyebrow.

"Black, what the fuck have you done to your eyes?"

"What?"

"They're red. I mean, really red."

Crucie grabbed a pocket mirror from her robes and checked. Indeed, her irises were red. It wasn't bright red, but it was red enough to be unmistakable. Her eyes showed how close the cruciatus was to the surface…

"Shit."

"Yeah, I see what you mean. What happened?"

"Female trouble. It influences my magic."

It had turned out that Regina had been right, and Crucie had gotten her first menstruation soon after the presentation of the Champions. At the moment she despised her femininity…

"Jeez. I'm feeling bad for your future husband."

"I can't walk around like this! I look like a hungover banshee!"

"Shush, it's quite all right."

"It's not!"

Crucie slammed her knife into the tabletop and the air crackled with magic. Theo slowly backed away a bit.

"Don't curse me, okay?"

Crucie sighed and felt like crying all of a sudden.

"I'm so sorry… I just… One moment I feel like cursing everyone to hell and then I feel like crying. I don't know what to do anymore."

Theo sat down next to her and carefully put an arm around her.

"You know what? Why don't you use all your anger for something constructive? Like revenge."

"Revenge is contructive?"

"I don't know about that, but it'll give you something to do, and that's always positive. Besides, I would gladly hold a helping hand to anyone who can make Karkaroff's life miserable."

Crucie felt a smile forming.

"I like how you think, Nott."

"So… we're on the same page?"

"Yep. We're going to dish out a little proper justice to that Russian bastard."

"As long as you don't kill him. If my dad and Uncle Augustus ever get free they have the honour."

Augustus Rookwood was Theo's godfather and one of the men Karkaroff had betrayed, so that added to the list of reasons why he wished the Durmstrang Headmaster to hell. Crucie understood him all too well.

"What about Crouch?"

"It's too bad that Batty Barty is dead, I think he would have gladly killed that bastard."

Crucie knew whe couldn't tell anyone about Barty impersonating Professor Moody, it would endanger his plan. She would have to ask him first what he wanted for his father before they could work something out.

"I think so too. But we'll figure something out."

"If you want to hide your eyes, try Oculos Chromata. Changes the colour of your eyes, but only for an hour."

"Thanks. How do you know that?"

"Dad was pretty good at sneaking around unseen before Karkaroff handed him over, you know."

"I bet his disguises were better than my uncle's…"

_(Pagebreak)_

While the school was enthranced by the Triwizard Championship, the Champions and the school delegations, Crucie and Theodore planned for how they would take down Crouch and Karkaroff, a task they had dubbed "Project Unforgivable". Because discussing their nefarious plots in the open would pose a danger, Crucie decided to introduce Theo to the portrait of Salazar Slytherin.

As usual the Slytherin founder was being hugely intimidating, but his dry humor somewhat resembled Theo's so it didn't take long before the portrait showed his friendlier face to the boy. When the introductions were finally over, Salazar heard in detail the ways the two men they targeted had wronged them, and as any 10th century man would have he almost insisted they would extract proper revenge.

"Sssuch insssultss to your blood and houssse ssshould not go unpunissshed, Mr Nott!"

"I agree, Mr Slytherin. We just don't know how exactly we will do it."

"Poetic jussstice, Misss Lestrange. It isss alwaysss most fair to give back what wasss given you."

With that in mind, Crucie went to bed that evening. Poetic justice… Crouch had rejected his son because Barty Junior was a little insane. Insanity would be a proper punishment, she believed. Besides, it would keep the man alive so that Barty could have his revenge too. As for Karkaroff… Theo probably knew better what the man deserved most. She decided to ask him the next day, and fell asleep with a head full of plans for bringing a mental affliction to the second jury member…

_(Pagebreak)_

Hermione was making friends with the Durmstrang students, and Crucie found that her friend was growing more open to the idea of studying the dark arts with everything they told her. She even surprised Crucie with a most heartfelt monologue on how Bartemius Crouch Senior was a horrible man, which was encouraging even though her hatred of the man was caused by him firing a house-elf.

Crucie herself found the Scandinavian students interesting as well, and she bonded with a couple of them over the difficulty of learning another language and the problem of having a speech impediment. Victor Krum was all but as haughty as Crucie had pictured a Quidditch star would be, and Thaddeus Baryshnikov and Ivan Arsenyev were quite nice to be around as well. Their stories of their homelands Russia and Bulgaria made her eager to travel to the continent some day. She and Hermione even found that the students –despite being dark wizards- were everything but prejudiced against muggleborns. Ivan was a muggleborn himself, and the way Grindelwald had devestated their country had made them wary of fanatic ideals. When Crucie and Hermione told them about their little battery project, the boys got rather enthusiastic, and Crucie was almost convinced she would have a couple new pen pals after the Triwizard Tournament.

The fun they had didn't take away the plans for Project Unforgivable… moreover, a story Ivan told her even gave her the inspiration she needed.

"In Russia, we pay rezpect to evil as well as to good, because evil will come back from thze depths of hell to haunt thze disrezpectful and take revenge on those who did it wrong. It iz all a matter of perzpective."

That phrase kept spinning around in Crucie's mind, until a plan slowly formed. A wicked plan she was certain would work…

**(Author's Notes)**

**Ethical Warning Ahead, everyone! **

**Crucie's going to do something worse than her usual tortures-and-giggles... Also, Theo Nott is not exactly the most conventional person concerning ethics either. He gets that from his father xD And I don't suppose Salazar Slytherin's portrait is a good source of ethical direction either, I mean, he's from the 10th century. Back then bloodfeud was an actual legal practice. So, prepare for justice being done, the Lestrange way. xD**

**And yes, poor Crucie gets her first menstruation. I got it around her age, and it was the suckiest part of growing up... (until I went to university and got acquainted with the mind-numbing amounts of useless information. Now my period is only second most sucky thing about growing up.)**

**PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE!**

**Every time I see I have reviews my heavy, troubled heart gets a little lighter... Have mercy on me, the sad and tormented student, and leave a note please?**


	7. Never Forget, Never Forgive

Sitting in the astronomy tower, their feet dangling over the edge, Theo finally told Crucie about his plan for Karkaroff… But not without divulging something else to his new friend as well.

"You know, Black… I am scared, most of the time."

"What?"

"Scared to lose my mother and be alone forever, scared of heights, scared of pain, scared of dementors…"

Theodore's voice was flat and he sounded as if he wasn't really talking to her.

"Sometimes I think it must be really grand to be you, Black."

"Why?"

"You're scared of nothing."

"I am not scared of nothing. I'm scared to be alone too. I'm scared of losing my family. I'm scared that my parents will die. I'm scared of losing my friends." She looked at Theo and raised an eyebrow. "Besides, if you're scared of heights, how are you sitting here in the Astronomy Tower so calmly?"

"Not all fear is expressed in screaming and crying, Black."

"Neither is all pain."

"I used to be scared of you, too. When I was younger, I mean. I was more scared of you than I were of the Dark Lord. When I was six I thought the Dark Lord couldn't have been half as scary as you were."

"I don't know if that's a compliment or not."

"It's a fact. You were damn intimidating. Still are. Crabbe and Goyle think you're a demon, by the way. I overheard them in the dorms."

Crucie chuckled.

"So, you're not scared of me anymore, but I still intimidate you?"

"Most fear is about not knowing, and I know you now. You're an intimidating person, and a bit of a madwoman sometimes, and I'll definitely think twice before insulting you, but I'm not scared anymore, no."

"That's good. You know, it's not so great to be scary all the time. You and Hermione are practically the only people who dare to be around me. Neville Longbottom takes a run for it if I only even look his way."

Theo chortled.

"You are officially the scariest person in Hogwarts, Black. Not that scaring Longbottom is such a big feat, but seriously. If you didn't want to be scary you shouldn't have scared that boggart, or defeated a hundred dementors, or befriended a basilisk ghost, or tortured Lockhart, or tortured anyone for that matter. Another name would have helped as well, and don't get me started on the pale skin red eyes thing."

"Yeah yeah, so I have no choice but to be scary. I get it. The red eyes are a recent evolution, by the way."

"It's okay with me. I just wish I wasn't so damn afraid all the time."

"What was your boggart?"

Theo didn't answer right away, instead he stared at the sky as if looking for answers. At last he said,

"Loneliness. Having no one left. Everyone being dead or having deserted me."

"I'm… I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's Karkaroff's fault. I wish I could make him feel the fear I feel every day thanks to him."

Crucie bit her lip and wondered.

"Maybe… maybe you can. I bet there are potions that can instill fears…"

"Hmm… But how would you get it to him?"

"He's Russian. I've seen him drink vodka that he brought himself and doesn't share with anyone; if we could poison that…"

Theo looked at his co-conspirator and smiled softly.

"I like how you think, Black…"

_(Pagebreak)_

At night, Crucie lay awake and wondered about the revenge plans. The worst of her menstruation was over, and now that the curse had calmed inside her she went over the reasons why she would extract revenge. In retrospect, she wasn't even certain that Theo had meant to go through with the plan; he had initially proposed it as a way of distracting her from mass torture after all. Now she was in her "right mind" again, she considered it.

The books Dumbledore had given her had chapters on blood feud and the reasons why regular justice was preferable. At the time it had made sense to her, but when Crucie thought about it… Regular justice had condemned her parents, Theo's parents, in a way that was all but compliant with the highstanding moral code that the books had portrayed. Even as the criminals they were according to wizarding law, they should have received a fair trial and proper defense. Moreover, according to the moral code Crouch should never have been allowed to judge over his own son.

As for letting someone off because he betrayed his former friends and colleagues… that hit a sensitive snare with Crucie. She hated betrayal more than anything; she didn't choose her friends and allegiances lightly, but when she did choose she stood by them. It was something she suspected she got from her mother. Karkaroff and Crouch were birds of a feather, hypocrites of the worst kind. And Crucie understood hypocrisy, she had learned to understand it because her uncle was a politician and he had made sure she knew how the world worked… But when one turned to it, he shouldn't be surprised when it came back to hit him in the face. They had played dirty with her family; she would play dirty with them.

Crucie closed her eyes with a satisfied feeling. She wouldn't kill, for they hadn't killed her parents. But they would suffer as her family did.

The next morning she sent a little note to Theo. It simply read: _"We're still on the project. Back out now?" _At breakfast she got one back._ "Never forget, never forgive, Black."_

It made her smile… who would have thought the slightly shy, hermit-like Theo Nott had such a vindictive streak? In truth she found it rather attractive, but she would never give Regina the satisfaction of hearing her say that out loud.

_(Pagebreak)_

"We should make sure no one could extract the secret from us."

"How do you mean?"

"We're death eater children, the both of us. If anything happens to the people who were involved in death eater trials while they're at Hogwarts, we'll be the first they'll look at."

Crucie grinned at Theo, surprised once more at the cunning the boy displayed. She hadn't even thought of that!

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Perhaps a charm with a secret keeper. They're awfully hard, but… well, after sympatisants of the light tried to attack our house I researched quite a bit of secret-protecting wards and charms. I'm sure I know something simple yet effective."

The coldness in Theo's eyes made Crucie want to hug him. The more she dealt with Theo Nott, the more she realized she had been incredibly lucky. Ever since the age of four Theo had been shunned by society and occasionally attacked, he had seen how his mother fell apart after being forced to betray her husband, he had dealt with anger and hatred Crucie had never been in contact with at that age… No wonder he was such a loner; Crucie didn't think he had ever had a lot of friends. Even the other kids of death eaters who got away hadn't dared to socialize much for fear of making their own families look suspicious.

She sent him a comprehending look. She hadn't been through the same, but she understood him the way she understood her uncle. She lacked experience but she instinctively grasped pain like no other. Out of respect for him Crucie didn't speak about it, and instead they discussed various options to make sure Project Unforgivable wouldn't be discovered. Finally they decided on a simple charm of which the strength lay in Crucie's recently acquired talent.

"It's called a Password Protection Charm; it was used before the Fidelius became popular but it became obsolete because it's much easier to break."

"How do you mean?"

"People can only talk about the secret to others who were included in the Charm, or to those who know the password. The password is known only to a single person."

"That sounds a lot like the Fidelius to me…"

"There's a substantial difference in how easily you can break the secret keeper; Passwords can be magically found out. The Fidelius has extra protection for that too, and it's in general a much more complex form of protection, much more layers."

"Then how do you know it is safe?"

Now Theo grinned.

"Well, since you told me about your… snake speech talent… It is particularly hard to find out a password in another language than your own, let alone a language no one speaks."

Crucie laughed.

"You're a genius, Theo."

"I try."

She thought about it for a moment, and then an idea popped up.

"I don't think I should keep the secret though…"

She looked up at the portrait of Salazar Slytherin, which had quietly followed their conversation. He gave Crucie a mischievous look.

"Misss Lestrange, I believe I know what you want to asssk of me."

Crucie inclined her head a bit.

"Yes, Mr Slytherin… If you would be the secret keeper of our project?"

"A project… that sssoundsss rather mundane, no? What about an Order, or a Sssociety?"

Theo chuckled.

"The Secret Society of the Unforgivable Curse. Rather pompous, no?"

Salazar hid a slight smile, and Crucie shook her head.

"Perhaps the Order of the Unforgivable, that's less of a mouth full."

"I don't dissslike it."

And so it was decided. Theo performed the spell on a piece of parchement, and then they wrote their names on it. Salazar was their secret keeper, and Regina –who stuck her head through the wall just in time to give Theo a fright-, insisted she would be an honorary member. The parchment was stuck behind Salazar's portrait, where they were sure no one would even dare to check. And so the Order of the Unforgivable came into existence, a creation of two vindictious students and a cunning portrait, supported by a crudemouthed serpent ghost…

**(Author's Notes)**

**You may have noticed it, but... ETHICAL WARNING IS STILL ON! xD **

**So, Crucie thinks over her reasons for revenge, and concludes that it is perfectly justified. We all know there's some dodgy logics in there, but... well, we also all know that revenge rarely turns out as a constructive thing. Dear Crucie... Tsss... **

**And poor Theo... *sigh* He's really scared of loneliness... (By the way, in case that wasn't clear, they had been talking for a while already when he unveiled his fears. It wasn't the conversation starter.)**

**I imagined that the Fidelius probably isn't the only secret-protecting charm around, and Theo is good at charms (and has a good reason to know about weird secret-protections too, because of his family), so it wouldn't be completely unlikely, right? They have basically performed a charm that makes them unable to outrightly tell anyone about their secret. It's not perfect though, they can communicate about it to others in roundabout terms, if they want to. The only way for someone to make them able to truly spill the secret is by finding and saying the password to them. The password then acts as a spell that releases the person from the charms that prevents speaking about the secret. It's not a perfect charm, far from... But that's a bit the idea. **

**Also... The Order of The Unforgivable... I couldn't help myself *chuckles* xD I thought to make it The Order of The Basilisk, but figured there's also something as "Too Much Of A Good Thing" xD. (Regina definitely counts as a good thing, no?)**

**PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE!**

**Exams are done, I passed at least one. *sigh* I actually feel more miserable now they're done, knowing the heap of retakes that is waiting for me... Cheer me up with a comment?**


	8. Nefarious Plotting At The Yule Ball

After a conversation with Barty on the subject of his father, Crucie had learned that the old man was already being controlled and would be highly susceptible to insanity. Her childhood friend had all but literally said to "go all the way" on him… Now her plan was growing steadily, but it all depended on whether or not Mr Burke still had the item she needed, and whether or not he would let her borrow it. She had sent him a letter, explaining in covert terms what she was planning and what she would need, and now she hoped the old shopkeeper would help her.

When one morning Mr Burke's raven arrived with a brown paper package and a letter, she knew she had been successful…

_Dear Miss Black,_

_I find a rare irony in your project. To bring back from the dead what hasn't died yet, the item you requested me is definitely appropriate… I am worried and my heart is heavy, Miss Black, but I have faith in you and your ability to bring this project to a good end. _

_The item I sent to you is old and valuable, and I hope you will heed the things I taught you and treat it with the necessary care and respect._

_Most sincerely,_

_Caractacus Burke_

The first task had passed, there had been dragons, there had been injuries, and Crucie would have found it all a lot more exciting if she hadn't been constantly distracted by the men at the jury table. Now she finally had the means to extract her plan… After breakfast she met Theo in Salazar's corridor and showed him the contents of her package. A hangman's noose, stained with silvery, almost ghostly looking blood.

"What… what is that?"

"Ghostly Ropes. Used for executions and infused with the blood of a wrongly convicted man. When you wear it around your neck, you appear to anyone but yourself as a ghost."

"Really?"

"Yep."

Crucie carefully lifted the noose over her head, and she heard Theo gasp.

"Wow. Oh Merlin… That's just freaky!"

"I know right!"

"So, what are you going to do?"

"Evil is coming back from the depths of hell, and it's going to torment Crouch for his wrongdoings…"

"Wait… you're going to impersonate Barty?"

"I didn't say back from the dead, I said back from the depths of hell. And tell me, what is more hellish than Azkaban?"

Theo's eyes lit up in understanding.

"Your mother…"

"I have some of her old clothes, I look like her, and trust me, when you're being tortured you don't pay too much attention to details. It'll seem as if the ghost of Bellatrix Lestrange has returned to haunt him…"

"Are you going to make him insane?"

"That's the idea…"

Crucie took the noose off her neck and grinned at him.

"So, what do you think?"

"You make a scary ghost. Want to go to the Yule Ball with me?"

Crucie laughed out loud.

"Sure, with or without the Ropes?"

"Without, preferably. You're creepy enough when you're alive."

"Too bad it's Christmas and not Halloween… By the way, how is your potion coming along?"

"I've found a recipe in that book you borrowed me. Mentalis Suspicio. It causes irrational fear of being followed and murdered…. Effectively leading to death by heartfailure or suicide in the end."

Theo grinned at her.

"It takes three days to brew and I may have to "borrow" some things from Professor Snape, but we both know that's not really an issue. It works like a slow-acting poison, and one small dose is enough to get the full effect. Unless an antidote is administered within three days, the effects are irreversible! Paranoia increases slowly but steadily to the point where it is a fullblown psychosis…"

Salazar observed the two conspirators in silence, but he couldn't help but feel both proud and worried. As usual Regina had been right about Miss Lestrange and the young Nott boy; it made him sigh at his old friend's antics. If she hadn't returned as a ghost he was certain she would have been reincarnated as a marriage broker. She would pester him to no end for details on how Nott had asked her little hatchling to the Yule Ball… Either way, hearing the twosome plan their revenge on the wizards that wronged them was both worrisome and amazing. They were smart and cunning enough, yet the thought of what might happen… He was glad they had at least the Charm's protection.

_(Pagebreak)_

Crucie didn't look forward to the Yule Ball. The thought of having to wear the frilled pink robes with glittery rhinestones and fabric flowers that Narcissa had given her was just too much. Not to mention she didn't know a thing about dancing. She had just wanted to declare she wouldn't be going when a large, flat box arrived for her, the day before the ball. A letter accompanied it.

_Dear Crucio,_

_I know you hate your aunt's dress robes, so I took the liberty of buying you new ones. I hope you like them; I know you think you don't look good in red, but trust me I've known your mother and she looked magnificent in it. I don't think you'll be any different._

_I know from your other uncle about the people currently present at Hogwarts. They'll get what they deserve some day so don't fret. Please enjoy the Yule Ball and don't worry. Everything is going to be fine. _

_With love,_

_Your uncle_

_PS: The other thing in the box is a joint Christmas gift from Mr Burke and your other uncle. Let's say they're impressed you're learning Parseltongue and wanted to give you a bit of a reward._

The box contained elegant, bright red dress robes with a mermaid tail skirt, short sleeves, and a sweetheart neckline. They were simple but elegant, sexy and still age-appropriate. It was rather surprising that her uncle had such good taste in dress robes… The mentioned smaller box contained a most amazing necklace. It was a snake, covered completely in dark green and black gemstones. Its eyes were seemingly closed, but its mouth was open and showed instead of the traditional two fangs a whole row of them. It was a miniature basilisk, Crucie realized. She stared in awe at it and almost missed the little note.

_Crucie,_

_Feed the snake a drop of your blood, and it will recognize you as its mistress and obey your commands if pronounced in parseltongue. One word commands are sufficient. _

_You can feed the snake any poison you like and order it to bite your enemies, if you feel like it. I thought it might come in handy some day._

_This piece has been in possession of the Burke family for many years, even though there hasn't been a parselmouth in our line for at least five or generations, possibly more. I sold it to your uncle as a gift for you because I would want you to have it. I have no children but you are the granddaughter I never had, and a piece like this should always stay in the family._

_C. Burke_

Crucie almost couldn't get herself together. She had never possessed any jewelry more valuable than her mother's emerald pendant… and it was clear that this piece was more than a couple hundred years old, a true heirloom. She stared shockedly at it, almost didn't dare to touch it. The last few days she had gained quite a bit of surrogate family, with Regina declaring her "one of her eggs" and now Mr Burke… It almost made Crucie want to cry out in happiness. Having lost so many of her relatives, she knew how to value her family…

Finally, she made a cut in her fingertip and let a drop of blood fall into the snake's mouth. The moment the red liquid touched the metal, it was as if a shudder went through the necklace, and the jeweled snake opened a pair of ruby red eyes. Crucie squeaked in delight. She realized the snake was waiting for a command, so she hissed.

/Come. /

The necklace slithered out of the box with surprising agility, up her arm and around her neck, where it rested as a seemingly inconspicuous necklace.

/Return. /

Now the serpent returned neatly to the box. It was awesome, and Crucie couldn't wait to show it to Theodore. A new nefarious plot had already formed itself in her mind…

_(Pagebreak)_

Theo's potion was done the evening of the Yule Ball, and Crucie was tense with excitement. Tonight the revenge would be carried out… She had done a lot to try and cheer up Barty in the meantime, but he was rather preoccupied with his "Plan" so she didn't always get through to him. Daphne had fawned over the necklace, helped Crucie to harness her pile of black curls into an elegantly cascading cut with more than one ultra strong haircare charm, and taken care of Crucie's makeup.

"You look good enough to kill for, Crucie."

"Thanks… You're not too bad yourself, you know!"

Daphne looked nice indeed. Her brown hair sat in a tight bun, and a dark blue gown accentuated her slight curves. She wore a pair of diamond earrings and a thin necklace with the Greengrass crest. It was sober, but perfect for Daphne. What wasn't sober was Pansy. The girl wore a dress in a shade of pink that hurt Crucie's eyes, covered with enough glittery thingybobs to blind a basilisk. It was Pansy Parkinson's voice in the shape of a dress, and it was every bit as awful if not more. Crucie whispered in Daphne's ear.

"Oh Morgana, I'm blind! I'm blind!"

And the girl stifled a chuckle. Luckily Pansy was too caught up in commenting on how plain Millicent's dress was to notice them, and she left the two girls without saying something.

"So, who's your date?"

"Terrence Blackstone, a fifth year Ravenclaw. He asked me first!"

"You like him?"

"Actually I don't know him at all. But he's cute so that's a start, no? Whom're you going with?"

"Theodore Nott."

"Really? He's normally such a hermit… I mean he only ever talks to Zabini for I've seen."

"We have detention with Snape together. Well, I have detention and he prepares to take his OWLs early or something. He's very smart, and good at potions so that's a plus too, since Snape obviously hates me."

"Lucky you! I hope Terrence is at least a bit bookish. The last guy I dated said books were for nerds and poofs. I wanted to curse his bits off when he said that."

"I know a spell to make them shrivel, if you're interested…"

They both went to the common room laughing, and then Daphne said goodbye because she was going to meet Terrence outside. Theodore was leaning against a wall, looking slightly bored. His tousled dark brown hair looked surprisingly sexy, and his black dress robes with green and silver accents matched strangely enough perfectly with her own outfit. He looked at her and dryly commented.

"Ey, Black! You brush up well."

"Thanks Theo. Did you do something to your hair?"

"My hair? Err…" He blushed. "Not really…"

Theodore Nott was still shy, even though he brew potions like it was nothing and planned revenge like a pro… It made Crucie laugh, but only for a moment. When everyone was out of the common room, she asked urgently.

"Do you have it?"

"Of course."

Theo gave her a small vial, and Crucie hissed.

/Feed. /

Obediently the snake necklace slithered down her arm and opened its mouth so Crucie could empty the vial in it. She didn't know how she knew the right commands, but for some reason they just came naturally to her. Blood magic, most likely.

/Come. /

She discarded the vial as the necklace returned to its original position. Theo grinned and offered his arm.

"Now, my fellow nefarious conspirator, shall we go?"

Crucie's red lips bent into a very Rabastanian evil grin.

"Of course my dear… It's time to show them we neither forget, nor forgive…"

**(Author's Notes)**

**First things first: Ethical Warning! Crucie and Theo are being nefarious and awesome, and Karkaroff and Crouch are going to get a nasty surprise... Given the fact that in canon, Crouch gets murdered, transfigured into a bone, and buried in Hagrid's garden, I think what he's getting now isn't all that awful... What's a little insanity, after all? xD**

**About the Ghostly Ropes: once upon a time in a faraway past I played Runescape. There was an item called "Ghostly Robes" which gave you the appearance of a ghost. One of the described items in Borgin And Burke's shop is a strange hangman's noose with ghostly blood on it, and some weird quirk in my brain made a connection. Hence the reference. **

**About the necklace: Lucius and Mr Burke are awesome people to have in your family, that much is certain. Mr Burke is very, very fond of Crucie, in case you people didn't know that already. ;)**

**PLEASE REVIEW! **

**As always, reviews are greatly appreciated. Please? I sort of live on them, and so does my muse... :)**


	9. Fun Things For Mr Moody

The ball had already started when they entered, and Crucie could feel both her and Theo's hart thump loudly. They were really going to do this…

"When do we strike?"

"When he's too drunk to refuse to dance with you."

Crucie's eyes wandered over the ballroom before they caught sight of Igor Karkaroff. The man was hanging around the drinks table a bit very obviously.

"I doubt we'll have to wait very long."

Theo nodded pensively. Then Collin Creevey approached them and asked if they wanted to have their Yule Ball picture taken, and remembering her mother's picture Crucie agreed. She was certain they looked stiff and tense on the photo… After that, Theo urged.

"We'll look suspicious if we just stand here. We should dance; if you appear happy and carefree he won't think you're dangerous."

"Cunning, Mr Nott, very cunning."

"It comes naturally. I'm in Slytherin after all."

Crucie had dreaded the dancing, but she found it was actually a lot more enjoyable than she had thought it would be. For one Theo proved to be an excellent dancer, and her mother's old dueling shoes provided her with a bit of much needed extra stability.

"Where did you learn to dance so well?"

"It's normally a pureblood thing. If your mother wouldn't… well, normally she would have hired a private dance tutor to teach you the basics of several dances."

"I see. Well, dancing is more fun than I thought it would be."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it."

Crucie turned her head to the drinks table and saw that Karkaroff looked both nervous and slightly under the weather already. With a calculating look she eyed him.

"We'll strike the next dance. Ask Hermione to dance when I leave for Karkaroff. You don't want to appear suspicious."

"Granger? The mudblood?"

"Yeah, 'the mudblood'. Start thinking in terms of use and talent and you'll see my point. She knows about me, by the way."

Since Crucie was the one with the cruciatus curse at her fingertips and a poisonous snake around her neck, Theodore decided not to argue. They were partners in this project after all. As the song ended Theodore and she gave each other a meaningful look, and then they parted ways.

At the bar, Crucie ordered herself a drink and kept an eye on Karkaroff. She sipped from her drink and hissed between her teeth.

/Arm./

The necklace slipped from her neck and curled neatly around her left arm, a much more useful position if she wanted to poison the Durmstrang headmaster. Just as she wanted to approach the headmaster, she heard two familiar voices with a thick accent she would recognize everywhere.

"Crussie! Why are you not danzing?"

She turned and saw Thaddeus and Ivan, the two Durmstrang delegates she had befriended. She smiled and said.

"I wanted to ask your headmaster for a dance, actually… I've grown very interested in your school after all. Only I don't dare to approach him too well…"

"Oh, but zhe is very nice, we will introduze him tzo you Crussie!"

_(Pagebreak)_

Theo was nervous. He was nervous and scared and without Crucie around he felt like the guilt was written on his face. Hermione Granger… Crucie must have had a reason to ask him to dance with her. As he was looking for a frumpy and bookish girl, he almost didn't recognize her in her elegant getup. If not for the heated argument she was having with a certain hotheaded redhead he wouldn't have noticed her.

"Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?"

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"

"Don't you see he's just trying to use you to get to Harry? He's a dark wizard, he can't be trusted!"

"Don't give me that shit, Ron! It's narrowminded and low, you're just jealous!"

"Why don't you just…?"

Theo gathered his courage.

"Miss, may I have this dance?"

The redhead almost exploded.

"Can't you see we are having a personal conversation?! Back off!"

Hermione frowned angrily and said determinedly.

"The conversation is over, Ron." Then she turned to him. "And yes, I would love to dance."

He led her to the dancefloor, hearing the redhead grumble about dark wizards and slimy slytherins. Hermione looked at him suspiciously.

"Not that I'm not grateful for you saving me from that asshole, but… why?"

"Right place, right time?"

Hermione smiled. She knew the mystery boy was a Slytherin, but since Crucie and lately Victor and his fellow Durmstrang students, she had decided to keep an open mind. And he was a good dancer too, so it wasn't as if she had anything to complain about… Ron's viciously jealous looks were only an extra incentive to smile happily at her unexpected savior.

_(Pagebreak)_

It had gone swiftly, much more swiftly than she had expected. Karkaroff had been too drunk to even notice the sting of little golden teeth puncturing his neck, and without any problem she had called her snake back after the bite and said goodbye to the headmaster after the dance. Now she had carried out part one of the revenge she felt a ton lighter. She was happy to see that Theo and Hermione were still dancing… She hoped they could become friends as well, because it somehow felt really wrong to hide something so big as the newly created "Order" from her best friend. It wasn't that she couldn't lie effortlessly; it was simply that she didn't want to have to lie around Hermione.

Crucie let her eyes wander over the Great Hall, turned ballroom for the occasion. She caught sight of Barty/Moody, who was standing stealthily against a wall and occasionally took a swig from his pocket flask. Well, she had promised him fun, so fun they would have… Besides, Crouch Sr. wasn't present on the ball so she had to ask Barty where the wretched man was. It seemed the fates agreed with her, because just as she made her way to the death eater turned professor, the band began to play a rather upbeat song that Crucie recognized as a classic she used to sing along with as a child.

"Merry Christmas, Professor Moody. Are you ready for fun things?"

She sent the professor a grin, and Barty's one eye gained an excited gleam.

"Fun things, you say?"

"Well, fun things we used to do before the… downfall. Remember this song?"

Barty listened, and his eye widened a bit.

"Witchita Banana?"

"I think it is… wanna dance?"

"The Plan, little curse…"

"Ah come on, when was the last time you did exactly what you wanted?"

The disguised death eater grinned.

"Far longer than you know, little curse… So, fun things?"

A moment later they were both dancing wildly –as wildly as Barty was capable of with a peg leg anyway- to the music of their childhood. Their dancing drew the attention of more than one person. After all, no one had ever seen Mad-Eye Moody behave so… childish, twirling a young student around and laughing loudly. Harry Potter and Ron weasley didn't know what to think of it.

"What? Moody is dancing with that Slytherin slut?"

"Ron…"

"I thought you said he was a light wizard!"

Ron looked as if his eyes were going to pop out. Harry found it a rather unbelievable sight as well, and so did Collin Creevey who shot quite a few pictures of the unlikely pair. Hermione and Theo noticed them as well –their antics took in quite a bit of space after all- and both wondered about the same thing. What could Crucie be up to?

Crucie wasn't up to much, except for dancing her feet from under herself, until the song ended. As she and Barty left the dancefloor panting, the fake professor whispered.

"Crouch is in his room. He was escaping the control so I left him confined on the bed. He'll break easily."

Crucie smiled widely while catching her breath.

"Thank you… professor."

"Send him my regards… I hope he'll hear and see as much as I do after you're done with him. Preferably more, actually."

"Don't worry about that, I know my stuff."

Barty gave her a strangely calm and knowing glance.

"I know little curse, I know." He hesitated for a moment. "If I don't get out of this alive, don't mourn me. I'll be happy to go knowing that bastard got what he deserved."

"P-professor Moody… Is there anything I can do…"

"If you do what you've planned, then you've done more than enough. Know that I am proud to call you my friend."

Crucie resisted the urge to hug the man; instead she nodded.

"The same, professor."

"Now go find your friends before they think the dirty old professor is propositioning you!"

Laughing, Crucie walked away. She couldn't shake the feeling that Barty was right, and that he wouldn't see his own Plan to the end. She hoped she was wrong…

_(Pagebreak)_

"Hey Mione, Theo!"

"Crucie! Oh my god you were dancing with Professor Moody!? Don't you know he's an auror!? That's like so dangerous for you!"

Crucie smiled at Hermione.

"Let's say that we meet on a common ground for some things, and that we don't pay attention to the rest."

Hermione knew that Crucie possessed the uncanny talent to make friends with highly unlikely people, so she didn't question it. What she did question as the knowing glances she and Theo exchanged; it felt as if she was being kept out of something important.

"Theo, remember that thing I wanted to show you?"

"Oh, right, you found it then?"

"Yeah, I thought I could show it to you now?"

The conversation felt forced, so Hermione coughed.

"Look, whatever it is you're going to do, just go do it. I'll say you went off to snog in a closet if I'm asked."

Crucie hugged her friend.

"Thanks Mione. If you ever need anything…"

"Yeah, yeah. Now go before people start paying attention to you."

Hermione didn't know where she got the audacity, but she remembered the words the portrait of Slytherin had spoken to her. Choose your battles wisely. She would heed his advice… She watched how Crucie and Theo left the Great Hall, and then pointed her attention back to the Durmstrang students, more specifically Victor Krum. She liked the guy; he was sympathetic and far more intelligent than the average quidditch player. That her friendship with him bothered Ron to no end was only an extra advantage…

**(Author's Notes)**

**New chapter! **

**I don't have much to say, as usual: if you have questions, just ask and I'll answer, and reviews are food for my muse! xD **

**The song "Wichita Banana" is a canon song that Lupin plays on the gramophone during his boggart class. I thought it sounded funny, so there you go...**

**PLEASE REVIEW!**


	10. Justice For Mr Crouch

Crucie gave the final touches to her now completely messed up curls, and hung the Ghostly Ropes around her neck. Then she turned around the Theo.

"How do I look?"

Unadvertedly, Theodore had paled. In front of him floated a ghostly translucent version of Crucie, but with the help of a dozen makeup spells to give her sunken cheeks, deep-lying eyes with dark circles around them, and full, dark lips from which blood seemed to drip, she looked far more like a murderous vision from hell. The old clothes of her mother and the overtly tousled hair could fool anyone; to an unknowing person she was without a doubt Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Y-You… you look… terrible…"

Crucie raised an eyebrow.

"You know exactly what to say to compliment a girl, don't you?"

"Seriously. You are officially more creepy than the Dark Lord."

"Now THAT is a compliment. Shall we go?"

Everyone was at the party and the halls were nearly deserted. Crucie's newly acquired dark cloak –minus the pointy hat- served well to hide her current ghostly form, and in no time they had reached Crouch Sr.'s chambers. They weren't warded, and a simple _Alohomora_ opened the door for them. Crucie handed her cloak to Theo, who then returned to the dorms. They would meet up later on.

Crucie smiled to herself as she saw the restlessly sleeping form of Bartemius Crouch. Barty had indeed magically bound the man to his bed, a measure she was happy with because she didn't know if she could have cast a good enough binding spell herself. A whispered _Silencio _made sure the man wouldn't be able to make a single sound, and then her game was on. She cackled in the man's ear,

"Wakey-wakey, Mr Crouch! Wake up and smell the psychosis!"

His eyes flew open, wide with panic, and he moved his mouth with no effect.

"Remember me, Mr Crouch? Remember who you sent to rot in Azkaban?"

Crucie saw how he paled in pure panic, still attempting to scream for help to no effect.

"Oh, Mr Crouch, don't try to scream… This is just you… and I… and revenge."

Crucie sent a first bout of the curse to the man, and seeing his face contort gave her a greater satisfaction than anything she had ever felt. This was the man that condemned her parents, the man who betrayed his own blood. He deserved the curse in all its glory.

"Is ickle Mr Crouch in pain? I hope he is…" Crucie cackled. Then her voice changed to her usual timbre again. "How does it feel, getting back what you dished out?"

And there was the curse again. Crucie relished the feeling; revenge was sweet indeed. Crouch's body was reaching the limit of what it could bear when pushed against the boundaries of the binding spell… She knew that she could make the man convulse more, eventually breaking his bones through the spell, but she decided not to. She stopped right before they broke, only to start again right away without giving him a second of reprieve.

"Insanity, Mr Crouch… You denied your son for it, accused me of it, and now… you're getting it back."

Crucie could feel an almost musical hum in her body, as if her magical core trilled in rhythm with the curse.

"Does this feel as nice to you as it does to me? Because this is Justice, Mr Crouch. If what you did to us is, this is too. And you like Justice so much, don't you?"

Crucie could almost feel how the curse literally frayed the man's nerves and damaged his cognition. If she continued he would be nothing but an empty shell soon, brain dead. She stopped for a moment.

"I will not grant you reprieve, Bartemius. I will not allow your mind to break and give you peace. I want you to feel, every day, how we have felt… I want you to bear the burden you faulted your son for."

A last stroke of the cruciatus, and Crucie was done. Crouch followed her with his eyes, scared, panicky, and yet slightly glazed over as if he wasn't all there anymore. Drool dripped from the corners of his mouth, and Crucie could smell his urine. Lovely.

"Good night, Mr Crouch. Insanity will sure be a lovely companion to you!"

She "floated" out of his room to the meeting point, where Theo was waiting for her behind an ugly statue. He had to admit that Crucie made a damn convincing ghost, and a very creepy one given the slightly reddish glow that gleamed in her ghostly grey eyes.

"You did it?"

"I did it."

She took the Ropes off and hid in her cloak. Together they hurried to the Slytherin Common Room. The only ones there were too drunk or too engaged in snogging to notice them, so they had nothing to worry about.

"He's…"

"Definitely a few sickles shorter. Tomorrow we'll see how many exactly."

With that Crucie returned to her dorms. She took off the clothes and hid them in her mother's trunk, which she then shrunk and hid in her own one. A couple scourgify's and a cold shower got rid of the rest of her disguise. As soon as she was out of the shower she wrapped up the Ropes and prepared to owl them back to Mr Burke, accompanied by a small note.

_"Never forgotten, never forgiven, but dearly paid for. The Project was a success."_

She went to bed with a rather mixed feeling. She was both exhausted and deeply satisfied…

_(Pagebreak)_

The next morning the Great Hall was back to it's normal state, but almost all the students bore the marks of a late night partying. Crucie didn't feel tired at all; she had gotten up feeling refreshed and energized for some reason. Now she sat at the Slytherin Table with Theo, waiting to see the fruits of their labor. Karkaroff entered the Hall looking nervous and trembling, looking behind his back a fair amount of times with a haunted look in his eyes. The Mentalis Suspicio had already started to work… The grand finale came however when the doors clapped open and a completely wrecked Bartemius Crouch stumbled into the Hall, followed by Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey.

"She's BACK! I SAW her! AAAAH! The F-Fury, s-she returned from HELL!"

"Mr Crouch, please calm down!"

The man was wearing his night robes still, stained with urine and some telling brown smudges. With one hand he pulled his hair while with another he wielded his wand a little bit like a sword, sending surprisingly volatile bursts of undefined magic at the two professors that tailed him. Of course some of the younger students had to start screaming. Nothing topped the panicked screeching of Crouch though.

"The ghost of Bellatrix Lestrange! She CAME BACK! The pain! AAAARGH!"

"Mr Crouch, you are not well, I insist…"

Snape held Madam Pomfrey back.

"Don't bother. _Stupefy._"

The spell hit target and the crazed man dropped limply to the floor. The mediwitch frowned.

"Severus, that is not how you treat a patient with a mental affliction!"

"You think having him attack students was a better idea, Poppy?"

The mediwitch sighed and shook her head.

"I have notified St. Mungos. I don't know what hit him, but I'm afraid he's one for the Janus Thickey ward."

Madam Pomfrey floated the unconscious man out of the Great Hall, and Professor Snape took his place at the head table. Crucie could almost feel his eyes burning in her back… she was pretty certain next "detention" she would be interrogated…

She caught Theo looking at her, shock but also respect written on his face. He granted her a curt nod, which she returned. Project Unforgivable had been successfully completed.

_(Pagebreak)_

Time passed, and things returned to normal… There was still the triwizard tournament going on, and Hermione was terrified of what might happen to Harry, so Crucie kept her occupied with working out a way to transfer energy from a can of battery potion into a muggle device. There were also her incessant Parseltongue lessons, the banter with the Durmstrang students, "detentions" with Snape and Theo… She had been surprised that Snape did not interrogate her thoroughly or slipped Veritaserum in her food. He only observed her with that suspicious, slightly evil glare of his. She was pretty certain that he knew, but somehow he didn't feel the need to confront her. Weird. Ah well, maybe he had an egg to peel with Crouch as well.

Having successfully carried out her revenge, Crucie had decided on a new project. Project Neville. The boy's fear was so bad these days that he bolted whenever he saw her approach from afar, and although Crucie liked being scary she didn't like making people feel like they had to run for their lives.

_"I don't see what it is with you and those boys. God's Night respects you, Strange Pain… He will bring you good offspring if you let him! Why follow the one male who wants nothing to do with you?"_

"Regina, it's not like that. I want to make peace with Neville, that's all."

_"I don't see why... He has the right of blood feud just like you did, Strange Pain. He is your family's enemy. It is good to have him at a distance, scared of you. Better than closeby and keen on retribution."_

"That's what I mean. Fear breeds hatred. Besides, you know what they say, right? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?"

_"You are being political… Very Slytherin of you... But be careful. I don't want anything to happen to you, little hatchling."_

"I'll be careful."

_"Now, about that suitor of yours… Why don't you give him some more attention? Give him some more of what he got at the Yule Ball?"_

"What? More of me dressed up as an undead version of my mom?"

_"You silly, silly hatchling. You don't go into mating season with your old skin, now do you? You need to brush up a bit! Bring out those eyes, wear a nice blouse, or those lovely heels…"_

"I don't need to seduce him, Regina. He's my friend and business partner. Besides, he has better things to do than lust after girls."

_"Unless he is of the non-reproductive kind, I wouldn't be so sure of that… His bathroom exploits tell me he's definitely lusting after something…"_

Crucie closed her eyes and tried to stop the mental images from forming. It had been bad before she knew Theo Nott personally, but now it was even worse.

"Gina, I did not need to know that. I have no desire to know anything about TWH!"

TWH, otherwise known as Theo's Wanking Habits, was one of Regina's favorite subjects, however in general the snake didn't discriminate as to whose sex life she speculated about, or worse, gave detailed descriptions of. Crucie had pleaded with the basilisk herself and she had pleaded with Salazar, but so far the only reprieve of Regina's debauchery she got was during History of Magic, when the serpent was too busy angering Mad Myrtle and frightening Professor Binns to make crude remarks on the "wand size" of the Slytherin boys or the rather girly noises Goyle tended to make when cumming.

_"You are still young, yes, but soon you will be longing for a healthy, virile male! I'm just making sure you know about their prestations, so you can make an informed choice later on."_

/Only a snake finding explain like that. /

_"That was a surprisingly correct sentence, little hatchling… Maybe I have to pester you more like this, it seems to have a good effect on your tongue!"_

"More? Is that even possible?"

**(Author's Notes)**

**I'm back! This story isn't abandoned! I've been very busy with exams, learning Black Speech, writing LOTR fanfiction, going out of the country on an internet-less holiday, having gastroenteritis, and a lot of other unfortunate events. That is no excuse however, and I apologize.**

**You all have to thank the awesome Vivien Lestrange for this chapter -and the further continuation of this story- as she reminded me of this project of mine and urged me to update it... **

**Ethical Warning on this one, I suppose... Crucie is not holding herself back! She does a pretty convincing imitation of her mother, really... The curse gets stronger with the amount of emotion she puts in it and the amount of pleasure she derives from it, and as you can probably tell, that amount is in both cases very high...**

**And Regina... I admit, I missed her. She's awesome. xD**

**I don't take credit for the phrase "Wake up and smell the psychosis", as it is a quote of Caprica 6 from BSG-2003. I just couldn't resist using it. **

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**I will try not to let you down again, I hope you can forgive me... Please let me know what you thought of it?**


	11. Stress And Strains

"How dare she write something like that!? How DARE she?"

Hermione was upset about an article in Witch Weekly, which described her as a slutty seductress and fame whore, courtesy of poison pen writer Rita Skeeter. Crucie understood her completely; she would be upset as well. Besides, she probably had more experience with slander and notoriety than any other.

"It's a bitch. But look at it from the upside, they at least describe you as incredibly beautiful."

"They accuse me of criminal activities, Crucie!"

"So?"

Hermione looked at her friend as if the girl had gone mad.

"What?"

"I said, so what? It's not the worst accusation ever. Besides, some notoriety can get you a long way."

"Urgh, Crucie… If what they write is true I'm more sex-obsessed than Regina."

"We both know you're not. No one is. As for now you just have to find a way to use it to your advantage."

"I can't."

"Don't be so Gryffindor about it. There are worse things than love potion. They could have described you as a deranged sadist with a perverted love of dark curses."

"No, that would be you."

Crucie laughed, and then declared quasi-serious,

"My love of dark curses is very healthy and all but perverted, thank you very much."

"So you admit to being a deranged sadist?"

"Well, who am I to deny myself such a complimentous description?"

Now they both laughed. Hermione found that Crucie was the perfect person to go to when dealing with hate mail and slander. She managed to make a joke out of every hurtful howler and her dry sarcasm was a great relief from the pity and disgust she received from other girls.

"I do wonder where that bitch gets her information…"

"It's probably through eavesdropping and paying people for information."

"Skeeter's been banned from the Hogwarts grounds…"

"Maybe she has an invisibility cloak, or she could be exceptionally good at powerful Notice-Me-Not charms?"

"I suppose…"

"Do you want me to do something about her? I know a few spells to detect invisible fiends, if we find her I can easily teach her not to mess with you."

Hermione shook her head.

"You'd get in trouble."

"I've done worse."

Hermione knew that. She had read virtually everything the school library had about the death eater trials and the people involved in them, so she knew about Crouch's role in the trial of Crucie's parents. She was pretty sure she knew how much worse Crucie exactly had done. She wanted to ask, she wanted to be sure, and on the other hand… she didn't. There was a limit to how much guilty conscience she could bear, and she wasn't sure she was ready to face the true extent of Crucie's ruthlessness just yet. Maybe there would come a day, but it wasn't this day.

_(Pagebreak)_

Karkaroff gradually became more paranoid, more skittish… The dark circles under his eyes gave away that he barely slept, and his erratic behavior went so far that it interrupted lessons and got people scratching their heads. Crucie and Theo rejoiced… Especially Theo, who had been terrified of so many things for so long, seemed to glow seeing that his nemesis was suffering. They were talking in the library, and Crucie had decided that it was time to include him in her other pet project.

"Did you like Hermione, at the Yule Ball?"

"Err… She seemed nice… I was surprised she offered to cover for us, not really Gryffindor of her. Since she always hangs around with the Potter boy I thought she would be far more… you know. Bigoted."

"She's rather cunning when you get to know her better. It's all a matter of perspective. By the way, take a look at this."

Crucie shoved Theo the recipe for the battery potion. The boy looked it over, and she could almost see the cogs turning in his head.

"Crucie, did you make this?"

"Mostly. It was a joined effort with Hermione."

"But why?"

"Muggle tech. You know, it runs on something the muggles call Electricity. Magic distorts electric currents. I thought it was just a ward around Hogwarts, but I tested it in Hogsmede and on Knockturn, and Mione tested it on Diagon Alley. Electricity doesn't work in a magical environment, it's fundamentally incompatible."

"I still don't get it…"

Crucie's eyes glittered with joy.

"We did research, piles of research… We compared the reactions of magic and electricity in different situations… And we found they are incompatible, because they are so alike, Theo. We can make magic run in muggle devices, because in some forms it looks enough like electricity to make it work!"

Theo looked at the recipe, at Crucie, and then again at the recipe.

"The potion… it's obviously some sort of power potion…" He looked up with a start. "Is it compatible?"

"It's the right kind of energy, the signatures match. Hermione did the arithmancy and I did the experiments. It would require a strong spell to energize the potion, but once done it should work."

Theo's mouth fell open.

"But you're not even good at potions!"

Crucie shook her head and grinned.

"I'm not really good at following instructions, that doesn't mean that I lack all insight in how potions work or what ingredients do. I'm not a prodigy, but do you think Snape would trust me to prepare practically all the ingredients for his classes if he thought I was a complete dunderhead?"

Theo nodded.

"Okay, makes sense. But still… this is really good, Black. Did you show it to Snape?"

Crucie raised an eyebrow.

"Do you really have to ask? The first thing he would do is floo-call Uncle Lucius about it, those two are like women when it comes to juicy gossip. Besides, it took Mione and me literally years to complete this. It's our baby so to say, and we aren't quite ready to let it go."

Theo nodded again, still looking quite astonished. Crucie laughed.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Theo!"

"I just can't wrap my mind around it. You've been doing this, all the time?"

"Yes, I have other interests besides torture, if that's what you're asking."

Crucie answered dryly.

"You know what I mean."

"I do. Want to help us?"

"Me? Really?"

"Theo, you're our year's potions prodigy. If anyone can help us, it's you. The question is, do you want to?"

"So THAT's why you made me hang out with Granger at the Yule Ball!"

"You've seen right though me."

Theo chuckled.

"You conniving woman. I'd love to help. This is exactly the kind of practice I can use if I ever want to get my potions mastery."

"The only condition is that you're civil to Mione. No blood- or family-related comments."

Theo frowned.

"Black, I'm not stupid, I am capable of common courtesy."

" Just warning."

"Fine…" Theo grinned again already, pointing at the recipe. "I think if you would stir three times counterclockwise in step four you can prevent the instability later on and then you don't have to add so much Fable Tears to counter it in step ten. Just a suggestion."

Crucie gave him a friendly poke.

"Consider yourself hired, Nott."

_(Pagebreak)_

The weeks that followed, a lot happened, but none of that was really bad. There was the tournament -and Crucie really bit her nails for the second task, as it involved Hermione being kidnapped by merpeople- there was detention, torture and "Order Meetings" in the hidden corridor, lessons from Barty, talk with the Durmstrang Students and observing how Karkaroff got reduced to a shivering mental wreck… Life was good for the youngest Lestrange. She should have known that usually when that was the case, something unexpectedly awful was about to happen. That unexpectedly awful thing turned out to be Harry Potter returning from the third task, disshevelled, bleeding and in the company of a dead Cedric Diggory. It started however with a little note, delivered by an unknown bird.

_Dear Crucio,_

_Things have happened. You can't come home this summer. At least not right away. It's about to get good if you-know-what-I-mean… Find yourself a place to stay with friends. Don't worry, it'll be okay. Be good. I love you._

_Your Uncle_

It was short and barely readable, written completely in the characteristic messy scribble of Rabastan Lestrange. Crucie felt her heart clench. _Things have happened_… She knew it must have something to do with Barty's illustrious Plan, and the hyphenation her uncle had used gave her a slight clue as to what kind of "things" might have happened. She knew she should be happy… it was, however, almost her "time of the month", and the curse was unruly below her skin. All she could think about was that her uncle might be in danger and she couldn't do anything to help or protect him…

And then Harry had returned from the Task with his dead co-contestant, and everything had taken a turn for the worse. Crucie had hidden herself after they had found out about Barty impersonating Alastor Moody and the man had been given the kiss. That little tidbit of news had been the final push, and Crucie knew she had to keep herself out of sight lest she would curse the first person she laid eyes on. Now she was reading her first and favorite dark arts book, repeating the curses and ritual chants like a mantra to hold on to her calm and clarity. The darkness wrapped itself around her like a cloak in moments like that, and it seemed the only thing next to torturing someone's brain out that would bring her any solace. Over her head, Regina was speaking with Salazar Slytherin in Parseltongue.

/Is she all right? /

/She is meditating, Regina… But even as a portrait I feel the darkness around her. It's tangible. /

/Her Moon is closing and the Curse is restless inside her. She needs to find a victim or she'll get sick again. /

/She's mourning her friend, Regina. Grant her time. /

/How do you know? /

/Portraits talk, especially former headmasters. I listen carefully. The teacher she liked was actually another man, one she considered… of her nest. He simply impersonated the teacher, and now he is dead. /

Regina bent her ghostly head and let out a sighing hiss. She curled around Crucie's figure, trying to provide a minor comfort. The girl didn't appear to notice, too wrapped up in the dark arts book.

/She will be okay again. Just give her time to get a hold on her power. /

The portrait was right, as usual. It took several hours, but at long last Crucie let out a deep sigh, and closed her book. She smiled sadly at Regina and Salazar.

"Thank you."

The founder just nodded.

"You are alwayssss welcome here."

_"Are you feeling well again, little hatchling?"_

"I'm not great, but I'll live. The same can't be said of Barty, or that Hufflepuff guy though. I know they died for a cause…" Crucie shook her head. "But somehow I wonder if it was a cause worth dying for."

Salazar gave her a stern look.

"Your friend died fighting for a caussse he believed in. It isss not up to usss to believe in their caussse, it's up to them who fight for it. He thought it worthy to die for, ssso don't dissshonor him by believing he died in vain, Misss Lestrange."

"And what about the other guy?"

"A casssualty of war. Every war makesss victimsss."

Crucie closed her eyes and nodded.

"I know that. I know that neither of them died in vain and I will not let anyone say they did. I also know though…" She looked up at the portrait and Salazar saw her bright red eyes, "that either side will mourn their own deaths and celebrate those of their opponent. And I don't know what side I am on."

_"You are on your own side, Strange Pain. The same side you've always been on. The side that is your family and friends and the people you deem worthy. This war… Salazar and I, we have lived for so long already and we know… war is relative. Sides are relative. What matters is where your heart lies."_

Crucie blinked a couple times at Regina, surprised at the wise and comforting words the serpent spoke to her. Their soft reassurance confirmed something Crucie had known from the beginning, something the magic of the cruciatus curse had imprinted in her very being: in war and torture, all are equal. Either side is equally opportunistic, equally bent on winning, equally hypocrite. And it doesn't matter what is right and wrong, good and evil. It's a matter of power and perspective. And… of love and devotion.

Crucie left her first confrontation with the nature of war feeling ambiguous, yet strengthened. The snake ghost and the portrait watched her leave.

/She's strong, my little hatchling. /

/That she is. But I fear that this is only the beginning… /

/I can't wait to see what comes next! /

/Of course, Regina. Of course. Why don't you go stalk some sweaty quidditch players in the showers? /

**(Author's Notes)**

**Another chapter! Yay for me! **

**Crucie has ethical dilemmas. As the war is closing in on her, she starts to feel difficulties maintaining her happily-in-the-middle position. The sides are polarizing, and she wonders whether she'll be obliged to pick a side or will manage to keep from choosing... **

**Also, Regina. I love her. Everyone needs a person like Regina in their life, I think. **

**In my story, Theo is a potions prodigy. As in, an actual prodigy. So that's why he immediately sees through the recipe that Crucie and Hermione put together. **

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**I am in the middle of retake exams, halfway through to be more precise (4 out of 7 done!) and any comments are highly appreciated. Feedback is awesome and makes writing worthwhile! So please? Also, all questions you may have I will try my best to answer. **


	12. Self Preservation After All?

Harry Potter had been feeling terrible. Voldemort's face, his words, the death of Cedric… it kept haunting him, day and night. There was nothing he could do to make it hurt less; he had failed and someone innocent had died. The End-Of-Term Feast was a somber event; everyone was wearing their mourning robes, and there was hushed whispering wherever he went. It was just too much. He watched the Slytherin table wearily. How many of those would willingly follow Voldemort? How many of those were future death eaters? His eye fell on a familiar mop of black tousled curls. Crucio Black. The living torture curse. Voldemort would probably love to have her in his army.

He stared at her, feeling here was something more familiar about her than just the odd face he had often seen in class. Then she looked up, and something clicked in Harry's head. It was as if he got thrown back into Dumbledore's pensieve, at the time of the death eater trials. That female death eater, who had been sitting in the chained chair like it was a throne, and hadn't bat an eye when she got sentenced to Azkaban for life. Bellatrix Lestrange. Looking at the Slytherin girl was like looking at her… A shock went through him and he gasped.

"She's a death eater."

Ron looked up, quite disturbed.

"What? Who?"

Harry shook his head. He needed time to process before he could share this with his friends.

"No one, sorry, I just… my mind was elsewhere."

Hermione patted him on the back.

"It's okay… We know how hard this is on you. No one blames you for it."

Harry scowled.

"Tell that to those idiots who read the Daily Prophet. Rita Skeeter makes me look like a dangerous lunatic."

"We all know that's nonsense."

"Yeah mate, I believe you. I mean, it's real shitty if You-Know-Who is back, but I believe you."

Harry looked gratefully at his friends. At least they supported him.

_(Pagebreak)_

The memorial had been hard, and Crucie's initial ideas got confirmed when Dumbledore announced the return of Voldemort. For that she had been prepared. What she hadn't been prepared for was Harry Potter, afterwards.

"YOU!"

She turned, facing the black-haired boy with raised eyebrows.

"What?"

"You helped him. I know you did."

Crucie felt the blood fall from her face when she saw a fuming angry Harry Potter. This was no good news.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Potter. Leave me alone."

"You know damn well what I mean! I'm talking about that death eater, pretending to be Alastor Moody! You know who he was and you helped him!"

Crucie felt her anger translate itself in expletives.

"You have no fucking idea what you're saying, Potter! Go spread your fucking madness somewhere else!"

Crucie felt the curse hum eagerly, but she suppressed it. She wasn't going to be the one to attack first. If he wanted to pick a fight with her, so be it. People had noticed their verbal exchange –mostly thanks to Potter's more than loud voice- and were trouping around them.

"Madness? You are the mad one here, Crucio Black! You are fucking insane if you think you can get away with torturing people like you do!"

Hermione had made herself a way through the crowd and grabbed Harry's shoulder.

"Harry, let it go. Just let it go, please."

He shook her off, roughly.

"Don't defend her, Mione!"

Right when he turned back at her, Crucie felt how the eye-colour charm lost effect and her curse-eyes shone through. Her now red eyes met with Harry's, and she saw how his mouth opened in shock and anger.

"You're a death eater, just like Crouch's crazy son, just like your filfthy whore of a mother!"

The air around Crucie crackled with dark magic, and a gasp went through the crowd. Surprisingly enough it was Draco who remarked.

"Err… Potter… I would take that back if I were you."

Harry was blinded by his anger, glaring at Crucie. And unexpectedly he hissed against her.

/You're HIS daughter, aren't you? Voldemort fucked your death eater mom and that's why you're such a sicko. /

Crucie understood that crystal clear, but she also knew, in the last part of her mind that wasn't overwhelmed by anger, that if she showed it she would simply confirm his thoughts. So she simply stared at him. Her voice sounded strangely hissing however when she said.

"You have ssssome gutsss, Potter."

"What are you going to do, curse me here in the middle of the hallway?"

"Harry, back off!"

"Potter, don't be an idiot. Listen to your mudbl-err-friend."

Hermione, Theodore and even some other students tried to calm Harry down, to no avail. Crucie slowly stepped forward, until she was uncomfortably close to him. There was a strong hiss in her voice still when she said,

"I don't take lightly to insssultsss at my parentsss' addressss. You know nothing of my family or me. Keep your bigoted opinionssss to yourssself lessst you may regret it sssome time very sssoon."

Harry could feel the magic that surrounded the girl tingle on his skin, making him shiver.

"What? Threatening me? Going to send your dad after me now?"

Crucie's bright red eyes shone with suppressed anger.

"I don't have to lisssten to thisss."

Everyone stepped aside when she backed away and walked out of the corridor, cloak flapping behind her. Hermione frowned angrily at Harry.

"What was that?"

"Not here."

Theodore raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, so now we're not supposed to hear it? Well, I would like to know what made you lash out at Crucie for no reason."

"Keep out of it, Nott. It's none of your business."

Theo shrugged.

"It's your funeral…" He grinned cheekily. "Well, at the moment it isn't, but you get my point."

Theodore Nott found himself in sickbay that evening.

_(Pagebreak)_

Crucie was in the Chamber of Secrets. Her robes were dirty and wet, her hair was tangled, and the room was filled with the squeaking of rats under the cruciatus curse. It didn't bring her much calm, and when eventually the sounds died away –the rats had either died or broken their vocal chords- she broke down sobbing on the dirty floor. Regina floated through one of the pipes into the room and found Crucie curled up and crying.

_"My little hatchling…"_

"I-I w-w-want him to die… I WANT HIM TO S-S-SUFFER! H-He c-called mom a w-whore… And I d-didn't d-defend her… I… I-I'm t-terrible… I'm g-g-gonna KILL HIM!"

_"Sssh… It's okay my little one…"_

Crucie was beyond reason, and the serpent ghost knew it. She could feel the curse crackle freely around her protégé, and she knew very well that right now the girl had no grip on it whatsoever. All Regina could do was hiss comforting words and wait until the worst of the storm blew over. When it eventually did, an hour later, Crucie was exhausted and hoarse. With a grainy voice she whispered.

"He said I was the Dark Lord's daughter. He insulted my mother. He challenged me and I refused the challenge. I'm a weakling."

_ "Strange Pain… you are not weak. You restrained yourself, you kept your secret, and that in a time of strong turmoil for you. You are stronger than any of them."_

"I should have made him take back his words."

_"It is war. Don't be stupid about it. Petty insults will be the least of your trouble soon enough."_

Crucie knew the old snake ghost was right, but she still struggled nevertheless. In an attempt to cheer her up, Regina hissed happily.

_"You know, little hatchling… there might just still be hope for your tongue."_

"Huh?"

_"Your tongue forks when you are angry. Natural Parseltongue speakers acquire a hiss when they grow older, but you get one when your emotions are strong and troubled."_

"Really?"

_"Oh yes. Now, are you feeling a little better?"_

Crucie nodded. She felt dirty and she had musclecramps, but the worst of the emotional turmoil had cooled down. She got up, dried and scourgified her robes, and put the eye-colour charm back in place.

"I am. I… I think I just need some sleep now."

_(Pagebreak)_

When Crucie ran into Hermione, the girl looked both frightened and relieved to see her. Crucie stopped her in the hallway, stating a most important fact.

"No matter what he told you, I am not the daughter of the Dark Lord."

Hermione looked more relieved now. Crucie shook her head.

"You really believed that?"

"He sounded really crazed, but then he told me he had seen memories in Dumbledore's pensieve, and… well… your eyes… I didn't see them very well, but he said they were red, just like You-Know-Who's. And you did dance with the death eater professor at the Yule Ball."

Now Hermione repeated the "proof" for herself, she saw it wasn't really convincing.

"You knew most of what there is to know about me already, including my parents. The red eyes are a temporary side effect of my period and the curse, not genetics. Besides, I have my father's nose. I couldn't be anyone's kid but his."

Hermione smiled sadly.

"True that, I already knew about your family. And according to Harry, You-Know-who doesn't even have a nose."

Crucie really wondered what the infamous man looked like if that were the case… She sighed deeply. Hermione put a hand on her arm.

"I… I want to say sorry for Harry's behavior. He was way out of line and… I'm… I'm grateful you didn't curse him. Part for him, and part because… I don't want to lose you as my friend."

Crucie felt a sob come up, and tears filled her eyes once again. Hermione saw that her friend was still very emotional, so she pulled her to the hidden corridor and set her down on a chair.

"Tell me."

And Crucie told her. About Barty, about her uncle's note, about Harry's insults… she let it all out. Hermione wasn't happy to hear that Crucie had known about the disguised death eater in the castle, but when she swore she had no clue about his plan, Hermione believed her. She hugged her friend tight.

"You know what? Why don't you come live with me for a while? Just until your uncle is back from whatever business he went to conduct. My parents wouldn't mind."

Hermione ignored that she knew very well knew what kind of business Rabastan went to conduct. Crucie's eyes widened at her proposal.

"But… T-they're muggles!"

"So? Have something against them?"

"Are you sure you want to risk…"

Hermione sighed and looked Crucie in the eyes.

"Do you trust your uncle not to kill or maim my parents for giving you a temporary roof over your head until he can come and get you?"

Crucie snorted.

"Uncle Rabastan won't do anything… Uncle Lucius however…" Crucie thought about it. "Your parents are safe. Uncle Lucius is far too caught up in ministry business, and now he has his death eater duties on top of it… He won't bother us."

Hermione smiled. Internally her wise mental voice was screaming at her that she was helping a criminal, that she was collaborating with the enemy, that she was putting her parents in danger… But she ignored it. Crucie had no place to stay for summer, and her parents had a spare bedroom. It would be all right. Hermione had gotten rather good at silencing the banshee-like screaming of her conscience during the year…

_(Pagebreak)_

"You're going to stay with muggles? While the Dark Lord is back? You're crazy."

"I know… but I have no where else to stay…"

Theodore frowned.

"Black, you could have asked me you know."

Crucie looked up in surprise.

"Really?"

"Yeah duh! I mean, we have this freaking large house, draughty as hell but with way more spare rooms than we can ever fill. My mom doesn't care about anything anymore these days, so a guest would hardly be a problem."

Crucie smiled.

"Perhaps I'll come to you after I stayed with Mione for a while…"

"Why don't you bring her? She's a mudblood but a damn brilliant one. Besides, we have a potions lab, so we could work on your project…"

"And your mom wouldn't mind?"

Theo shrugged.

"She doesn't care about anything anymore. Not even blood issues. The portraits might take offence, but if she's crude-mouthed enough they'll learn to respect her."

Crucie laughed.

"Sounds nice… I'll ask her."

Theo patted Crucie on the back.

"I'm sorry about Barty. Did you know?"

She nodded.

"I knew he was here and that he had a mission. I told him explicitly not to tell me. I didn't want to be at risk of betraying him."

Theo nodded.

"I won't tell anyone."

"I know you won't."

Crucie smiled. Sitting there, she realized she had real friends, friends who would stand by her no matter what. On a whim she hugged Theo.

"I'm so glad I know you."

Theo was caught by surprise, but hugged her back nevertheless.

"Never thought I'd say this, but so am I." He chuckled. "If only my four-year-old self could see me now…"

Crucie poked him, and soon the hug turned into a poke-fight that got them sent out of the library. There were bags to be packed anyway, so that wasn't really much of a problem…

**(Author's Notes)**

**Crucie had a bit of a breakdown, and so did Harry. Theo got himself a broken nose and two summer house guests. And Hermione practices some more at muffling the voice of her conscience.. **

**And here ends Book 4!**

**The sequel is called **

**"Given Our Curses"**

**and should be up tonight! **

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**I love reviews! I've been very un-faithful in updating this story, but it isn't abandoned and the sequel won't be either! Please review?**


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